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Felline;  him  like  an  ox.' 


Page  107. 


A  TROOPER  GALAHAD 


BY 

CAPTAIN  CHARLES  KING,  U.S.A. 

AUTHOR  OF 

"  THE  COLONEL'S  DAUGHTER,"  "  MARION'S  FAITH,"  "CAPTAIN  BLAKE,' 
"UNDER  FIRE,"  "FROM  SCHOOL  TO  BATTLE-FIELD,"  ETC. 


PHILADELPHIA 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY 
1899 


COPYRIGHT,  1898, 

BY 
J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY. 


ELECTROTYPED  AND  PRINTED  BY  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY.  PHILADELPHIA,  U.S.  A. 


A  TROOPER  GALAHAD 

*** 
CHAPTER  I. 

"LIFE  is  full  of  ups  and  downs,"  mused  the 
colonel,  as  he  laid  on  the  littered  desk  before  him 
an  official  communication  just  received  from  De 
partment  Head-Quarters,  "  especially  army  life,— 
and  more  especially  army  life  in  Texas." 

"Now,  what  are  you  philosophizing  about?" 
asked  his  second  in  command,  a  burly  major, 
glancing  over  the  top  of  the  latest  home  paper, 
three  weeks  old  that  day. 

"D'ye  remember  Pigott,  that  little  cad  that 
was  court-martialled  at  San  Antonio  in  '68  for 
quintuplicating  his  pay  accounts?  He  married 
the  widow  of  old  Alamo  Hendrix  that  winter. 
He's  worth  half  a  million  to-day,  is  running  for 
Congress,  and  will  probably  be  on  the  military 
committee  next  year,  while  here's  Lawrence,  who 
was  judge  advocate  of  the  court  that  tried  him, 
gone  all  to  smash."  And  the  veteran  officer  com 
manding  the  — th  Infantry  and  the  big  post  at 

Fort  Worth  glanced  warily  along  into  the  adjoin- 

3 

M12539 


4;  ,«,  ^   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

ing  office,  where  a  clerk  was  assorting  the  papers 
i  on  the  adjutant's  desk. 

"It's  the  saddest  case  I  ever  heard  of,"  said 
Major  Brooks,  tossing  aside  the  Toledo  Blade  and 
tripping  up  over  his  own,  which  he  had  thought 
fully  propped  between  his  legs  as  he  took  his  seat 
and  thoughtlessly  ignored  as  he  left  it.  "Damn 
that  sabre, — and  the  service  generally!"  he 
growled,  as  he  recovered  his  balance  and  tramped 
to  the  window.  "  I'd  almost  be  willing  to  quit  it 
as  Pigott  did  if  I  could  see  my  way  to  a  moderate 
competence  anywhere  out  of  it.  Lawrence  was 
as  good  a  soldier  as  we  had  in  the  12th,  and,  yet, 
what  can  you  do  or  say?  The  mischief's  done." 
And,  beating  the  devil's  tattoo  on  the  window, 
the  major  stood  gloomily  gazing  out  over  the 
parade. 

"It  isn't  Lawrence  himself  I'm  so Or 
derly,  shut  that  door!"  cried  the  chief,  whirling 
around  in  his  chair,  "  and  tell  those  clerks  I  want 
it  kept  shut  until  the  adjutant  comes;  and  you 
stay  out  on  the  porch. — It  isn't  Lawrence  I'm  so 
sorely  troubled  about,  Brooks.  He  has  ability, 
and  could  pick  up  and  do  well  eventually,  but 
he's  utterly  discouraged  and  swamped.  What's 
to  become,  though,  of  that  poor  child  Ada  and  his 
little  boy?" 

"God  knows,"  said  Brooks,  sadly.     "I've  got 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  5 

five  of  my  own  to  look  after,  and  you've  got  four. 
No  use  talking  of  adopting  them,  even  if  Law 
rence  would  listen;  and  he  never  would  listen 
to  anything  or  anybody — they  tell  me,"  he  added, 
after  a  minute's  reflection.  "  I  don't  know  it  my 
self.  It's  what  Buxton  and  Canker  and  some  of 
those  fellows  told  me  on  the  ^Republican  last  sum 
mer.  I  hadn't  seen  him  since  Gettysburg  until 
we  met  here." 

"Buxton  and  Canker  be — exterminated!"  said 
the  colonel,  hotly.  "I  never  met  Buxton,  and 
never  want  to.  As  for  Canker,  by  gad,  there's 
another  absurdity.  They  put  him  in  the  cavalry 
because  consolidation  left  no  room  for  him  with 
us.  What  do  you  suppose  they'll  do  with  him  in 
the  — th?" 

"  The  Lord  knows,  as  I  said  before.  He  never 
rode  anything  but  a  hobby  in  his  life.  I  don't 
wonder  Lawrence  couldn't  tolerate  preaching 
from  him.  But  what  I  don't  understand  is,  who 
made  the  allegation.  What's  his  offence?  Every 
one  knows  that  he's  in  debt  and  trouble,  and  that 
he's  had  hard  lines  and  nothing  else  ever  since  the 
war,  but  the  court  acquitted  him  of  all  blame  in 
that  money  business ' 

"And  now  to  make  room  for  fellows  with 
friends  at  court,"  burst  in  the  colonel,  wrathfully, 
"he  and  other  poor  devils  with  nothing  but  a 


Q  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

fighting  record  and  a  family  to  provide  for  are 
turned  loose  on  a  year's  pay,  which  they're  to 
have  after  things  straighten  out  as  to  their  ac 
counts  with  the  government.  Now  just  look  at 
Lawrence!  Ordnance  and  quartermaster's  stores 
hopelessly  boggled " 

"Hush!"  interrupted  Brooks,  starting  back 
from  the  window.  "  Here  he  is  now." 

Assembly  of  the  guard  details  had  sounded  a 
few  moments  before,  and  all  over  the  sunshiny 
parade  on  its  westward  side,  in  front  of  the 
various  barracks,  little  squads  of  soldiers  armed 
and  in  full  uniform  were  standing  awaiting  the 
next  signal,  while  the  porches  of  the  low  wooden 
buildings  beyond  were  dotted  with  groups  of 
comrades,  lazily  looking  on.  Out  on  the  green 
sward,  broad  and  level,  crisscrossed  with  gravel 
walks,  the  band  had  taken  its  station,  marshalled 
by  the  tall  drum-major  in  his  huge  bear-skin 
shako.  From  the  lofty  flag-staff  in  the  centre  of 
the  parade  the  national  colors  were  fluttering  in 
the  mountain  breeze  that  stole  down  from  the 
snowy  peaks  hemming  the  view  to  the  northwest 
and  stirred  the  leaves  of  the  cottonwoods  and  the 
drooping  branches  of  the  willows  in  the  bed  of 
the  rushing  stream  sweeping  by  the  southern 
limits  of  the  garrison.  Within  the  enclosure, 
sacred  to  military  use,  it  was  all  the  same  old 


A   TROOPER  GALAHAD.  f 

familiar  picture,  the  stereotyped  fashion  of  the 
frontier  fort  of  the  earliest  '70s, — dull-hued  bar 
racks  on  one  side  or  on  two,  dull-hued,  broad- 
porched  cottages — the  officers'  quarters — on 
another,  dull-hued  offices,  storehouses,  corral 
walls,  scattered  about  the  outskirts,  a  dull-hued, 
sombre  earth  on  every  side;  sombre  sweeping 
prairie  beyond,  spanned  by  pallid  sky  or  snow- 
tipped  mountains;  a  twisting,  winding  road  or 
two,  entering  the  post  on  one  front,  issuing  at 
the  other,  and  tapering  off  in  sinuous  curves 
until  lost  in  the  distance;  a  few  scattered  ranches 
in  the  stream  valley;  a  collection  of  sheds, 
shanties,  and  hovels  surrounding  a  bustling  es 
tablishment  known  as  the  store,  down  by  the 
ford, — the  centre  of  civilization,  apparently,  for 
thither  trended  every  roadway,  path,  track,  or 
trail  visible  to  the  naked  eye.  Here  in  front  of 
the  office  a  solitary  cavalry  horse  was  tethered. 
Yonder  at  the  sutler's,  early  as  it  was  in  the  day, 
a  dozen  quadrupeds,  mules,  mustangs,  or  Indian 
ponies,  were  blinking  in  the  sunshine.  Dogs  in 
numerable  sprawled  in  the  sand.  Bipeds  lolled 
lazily  about  or  squatted  on  the  steps  on  the  edge 
of  the  wooden  porch,  some  in  broad  sombreros, 
some  in  scalp-lock  and  blanket, — none  in  the  garb 
of  civil  life  as  seen  in  the  nearest  cities,  and  the 
nearest  was  four  or  five  hundred  miles  away. 


8  4-   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

Out  on  the  parade  were  bits  of  lively  color,  the 
dresses  of  frolicsome  children  to  the  east,  the 
stripes  and  facings  of  the  cavalry  and  artillery  at 
the  west;  for,  by  some  odd  freak  of  the  fortunes 
of  war,  here,  away  out  at  Fort  Worth,  had  come 
a  crack  light  battery  of  the  old  army,  which,  with 
Brooks's  battalion  of  the  cavalry,  and  head-quar 
ters'  staff,  band,  and  six  companies  of  the  — th  In 
fantry,  made  up  the  garrison,— the  biggest  then 
maintained  in  the  Department  immortalized  by 
Sheridan  as  only  second  choice  to  Sheol.  It  was 
the  winter  of  '70  and  '71,  as  black  and  dreary  a 
time  as  ever  the  army  knew,  for  Congress  had 
telescoped  forty-five  regiments  into  half  the  num 
ber  and  blasted  all  hopes  of  promotion, — about 
the  only  thing  the  soldier  has  to  live  for. 

And  that  wasn't  the  blackest  thing  about  the 
business,  by  any  means.  The  war  had  developed 
the  fact  that  we  had  thousands  of  battalion  com 
manders  for  whom  the  nation  had  no  place  in 
peace  times,  and  scores  of  them,  in  the  hope  and 
promise  of  a  life  employment  in  an  honorable 
profession,  accepted  the  tender  of  lieutenancies 
in  the  regular  army  in  '66,  the  war  having  broken 
up  all  their  vocations  at  home,  and  now,  having 
given  four  years  more  to  the  military  service, — 
taken  all  those  years  out  of  their  lives  that  might 
have  been  given  to  establishing  themselves  in 


A   TROOPER  GALAHAD.  Q 

business,— they  were  bidden  to  choose  between 
voluntarily  quitting  the  army  with  a  bonus  of  a 
year's  pay,  and  remaining  with  no  hope  of  ad 
vancement.    Most  of  them,  despairing  of  finding 
employment  in  civil  life,  concluded  to  stay:    so 
other  methods  of  getting  rid  of  them  were  de 
vised,  and,  to  the  amaze  of  the  army  and  the  dis 
may  of  the  victims,  a  big  list  was  published  of 
officers    "rendered    supernumerary"    and    sum 
marily  discharged.     And  this  was  how  it  hap 
pened  that  a  gallant,  brilliant,  and  glad-hearted 
fellow,  the  favorite  staff  officer  of  a  glorious  corps 
commander  who  fell  at  the  head  of  his  men  after 
three  years  of  equally  glorious  service,  found  him 
self  in  far-away  Texas   this   blackest   of   black 
Fridays,  suddenly  turned  loose  on  the  world  and 
without  hope  or  home. 

Cruel  was  no  word  for  it.  Entering  the  army 
before  the  war,  one  of  the  few  gifted  civilians 
commissioned  because  they  loved  the  service  and 
then  had  friends  to  back  them,  Edgar  Lawrence 
had  joined  the  cavalry  in  Texas,  where  the  first 
thing  he  did  was  to  fall  heels  over  head  in  love 
with  his  captain's  daughter,  and  a  runaway  match 
resulted.  Poor  Kitty  Tyrrell!  Poor  Ned  Law 
rence!  Two  more  unpractical  people  never  lived. 
She  was  an  army  girl  with  aspirations,  much 
sweetness,  and  little  sense.  He  was  a  whole- 


10  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

souled,  generous,  lavish  fellow.  Both  were  ex 
travagant,  she  particularly  so.  They  were  sorely 
in  debt  when  the  war  broke  out,  and  he,  instead 
of  going  in  for  the  volunteers,  was  induced  to  be 
come  aide-de-camp  to  his  old  colonel,  who  passed 
him  on  to  another  when  he  retired;  and  when  the 
war  was  half  over  Lawrence  was  only  a  captain 
of  staff,  and  captain  he  came  out  at  the  close. 
Brevets  of  course  he  had,  but  what  are  brevets 
but  empty  title?  What  profiteth  it  a  man  to  be 
called  colonel  if  he  have  only  the  pay  of  a  sub? 
Hundreds  of  men  who  eagerly  sought  his  aid  or 
influence  during  the  war  "  held  over  him"  at  the 
end  of  it.  Another  general  took  him  on  his  staff 
as  aide-de-camp,  where  Lawrence  was  invaluable. 
Kitty  dearly  loved  city  life,  parties,  balls,  operas, 
and  theatres;  but  Lawrence  grew  lined  and  gray 
with  care  and  worry.  The  general  went  the  way 
of  all  flesh,  and  Lawrence  to  Texas,  unable  to  get 
another  staff  billet.  They  set  him  at  court-mar 
tial  duty  at  San  Antonio  for  several  months,  for 
Texas  furnished  culprits  by  the  score  in  the  days 
that  followed  the  war,  and  many  an  unpromising 
army  career  was  cut  short  by  the  tribunal  of 
which  Captain  and  Brevet  Lieutenant-Colonel 
Lawrence  was  judge  advocate;  but  all  the  time 
he  had  a  skeleton  in  his  own  closet  that  by  and 
by  rattled  its  way  out.  Time  was  in  the  war  days 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  H 

when  many  of  the  men  of  the   head-quarters 
escort  banked  their  money  with  the  beloved  and 
popular  aide.     He  had  nearly  twelve  hundred 
dollars  when  the  long  columns  probed  the  Wil 
derness  in  '64.     It  was  still  with  him  when  he 
was  suddenly  sent  back  to  Washington  with  the 
body  of  his  beloved  chief,  but  every  cent  was 
gone  before  he  got  there,  stolen  from  him  on  the 
steamer  from  Acquia  Creek,  and  never  a  trace 
was  found  of  it  thereafter.     For  years  he  was 
paying  that  off,  making  it  good  in  driblets,  but 
while  he  was  serving  faithfully  in  Texas,  com 
manding  a  scout  that  took  him  miles  and  miles 
away  over  the  Llano  Estacado,  there  were  inimi 
cal  souls  who  worked  the  story  of  his  indebtedness 
to  enlisted  men  for  all  it  was  worth,  and,  aided  by 
the  complaints  of  some  of  their  number,  to  his 
grievous  disadvantage.     He  came  home  from  a 
brilliant  dash  after  the  Kiowas  to  find  himself 
complimented    in    orders    and    confronted    by 
charges  in  one  and  the  same  breath.     The  court 
acquitted  him  of  the  charges  and  "cut"  his  ac 
cusers,  but  the  shame  and  humiliation  of  it  all 
seemed  to  prey  upon  his  spirits;   and  then  Kitty 
Tyrrell  died. 

"  If  that  had  only  happened  years  before,"  said 
the  colonel,  "it  would  have  been  far  better  for 
Lawrence,  for  she  conscientiously  believed  her- 


12  ^   TROOPER  GALAHAD. 

self  the  best  wife  in  the  world,  and  spent  every 
cent  of  his  income  in  dressing  up  to  her  concep 
tion  of  the  character."  Once  the  most  dashing 
and  debonair  of  captains,  poor  Ned  ran  down  at 
the  heel  and  seemed  unable  to  rally.  New  com 
manders  came  to  the  department,  to  his  regiment, 
and  new  officials  to  the  War  Office, — men  "who 
knew  not  Joseph;"  and  when  the  drag-net  was  cast 
into  the  whirlpool  of  army  names  and  army  repu 
tations,  it  was  set  for  scandal,  not  for  services, 
and  the  old  story  of  those  unpaid  hundreds  was 
enmeshed  and  served  up  seasoned  with  the  latest 
spice  obtainable  from  the  dealers  rebuked  of  that 
original  court.  And,  lo !  when  the  list  of  victims 
reached  Fort  Worth  in  the  reorganization  days, 
old  Frazier,  the  colonel,  burst  into  a  string  of 
anathemas,  and  more  than  one  good  woman  into 
a  passion  of  tears,  for  poor  Ned  Lawrence,  at  that 
moment  long  days'  marches  away  towards  the  Kio 
Bravo,  was  declared  supernumerary  and  mustered 
out  of  the  service  of  the  United  States  with  one 
year's  pay, — pay  which  he  could  not  hope  to  get 
until  every  government  account  was  satisfactorily 
straightened,  and  this,  too,  at  a  time  when  the 
desertion  of  one  sergeant  and  the  death  of  an 
other  revealed  the  fact  that  his  storehouses  liad 
been  systematically  robbed  and  that  he  was  hope 
lessly  short  in  many  a  costly  item  charged  against 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  13 

him.  That  heartless  order  was  a  month  old  when 
the  stricken  soldier  reached  his  post,  and  then  and 
there  for  the  first  time  learned  his  fate. 

Yes,  they  had  tried  to  break  it  to  him.  Letters 
full  of  sympathy  were  written  and  sent  by  couriers 
far  to  the  north;  others  took  them  on  the  Concho 
trail.  Brooks  and  Frazier  both  wrote  to  San  An 
tonio  messages  thence  to  be  wired  to  Washington 
imploring  reconsideration;  but  the  deed  was  done. 
Astute  advisers  of  the  War  Secretary  clinched 
the  matter  by  the  prompt  renomination  of  others 
to  fill  the  vacancies  just  created,  and  once  these 
were  confirmed  by  the  Senate  there  could  be  no 
appeal.  The  detachment  led  by  Brevet  Lieuten 
ant-Colonel  Lawrence,  so  later  said  the  Texas 
papers,  had  covered  itself  with  glory,  but  in  its 
pursuit  of  the  fleeing  Indians  it  had  gone  far  to 
the  northeast  and  so  came  home  by  a  route  no  man 
had  dreamed  of,  and  Lawrence,  spurring  eagerly 
ahead,  rode  in  at  night  to  fold  his  motherless  little 
ones  to  his  heart,  and  found  loving  army  women 
aiding  their  faithful  old  nurse  in  ministering  to 
them,  but  read  disaster  in  the  tearful  eyes  and 
faltering  words  that  welcomed  him. 

Then  he  was  ill  a  fortnight,  and  then  he  had 
to  go.  He  could  not,  would  not  believe  the  order 
final.  He  clung  to  the  hope  that  he  would  find 
at  Washington  a  dozen  men  who  knew  his  war 


14  ^   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

record,  who  could  remember  his  gallant  services 
in  a  dozen  battles,  his  popularity  and  prominence 
in  the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  Everybody  knows 
the  favorite  aide-de-camp  of  a  corps  commander 
when  colonels  go  begging  for  recognition,  and 
everybody  has  a  cheery,  cordial  word  for  him  so 
long  as  he  and  his  general  live  and  serve  together. 
But  that  proves  nothing  when  the  general  is  gone. 
Colonels  who  eagerly  welcomed  and  shook  hands 
with  the  aide-de-camp  and  talked  confidentially 
with  him  about  other  colonels  in  days  when  he 
rode  long  hours  by  his  general's  side,  later  passed 
him  by  with  scant  notice,  and  "always  thought 
him  a  much  overrated  man."  Right  here  at  Fort 
Worth  were  fellows  who,  six  or  seven  years  be 
fore,  would  have  given  a  month's  pay  to  win  Ned 
Lawrence's  influence  in  their  behalf, — for,  like 
"Perfect"  Bliss  of  the  Mexican  war  days,  Law 
rence  was  believed  to  write  his  general's  de 
spatches  and  reports, — but  who  now  shrank  un 
easily  out  of  his  way  for  fear  that  he  should  ask 
a  favor. 

Even  Brooks,  who  liked  and  had  spoken  for 
him,  drew  back  from  the  window  when  with  slow, 
heavy  steps  the  sad-faced,  haggard  man  came 
slowly  along  the  porch.  The  orderly  sprang  up 
and  stood  at  salute  just  as  adjutant's  call  sounded, 
and  the  band  pealed  forth  its  merry,  spirited 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  15 

music.  For  a  moment  the  new-comer  turned  and 
glanced  back  over  the  parade,  now  dotted  with 
little  details  all  marching  out  to  the  line  where 
stood  the  sergeant-major;  then  he  turned,  en 
tered  the  building,  and  paused  with  hopeless  eyes 
and  pallid,  careworn  features  at  the  office  door 
way.  His  old  single-breasted  captain's  frock-coat, 
with  its  tarnished  silver  leaves  at  the  shoulders, 
hung  loosely  about  his  shrunken  form.  The 
trousers,  with  their  narrow  welt  of  yellow  at  the 
seam,  looked  far  too  big  for  him.  His  forage-cap, 
still  natty  in  shape,  was  old  and  worn.  His  chin 
and  cheeks  bristled  with  a  stubbly  grayish  beard. 
All  the  old  alert  manner  was  gone.  The  once 
bright  eyes  were  bleary  and  dull.  Neighbors  said 
that  poor  Ned  had  been  drinking  deep  of  the  con 
tents  of  a  demijohn  a  sympathetic  soul  had  sent 
him,  and  half  an  eye  could  tell  that  his  lip  was 
tremulous.  The  colonel  arose  and  held  out  his 
hand. 

"Come  in,  Lawrence,  old  fellow,  and  tell  me 
what  I  can  do  for  you."  He  spoke  kindly,  and 
Brooks,  too,  turned  towards  the  desolate  man. 

"You've  done — all  you  could — both  of  yon. 
God  bless  you!"  was  the  faltering  answer.  "I've 
come  to  say  I  start  at  once.  I'm  going  right  to 
"Washington  to  have  this  straightened  out.  I 
want  to  thank  you,  colonel,  and  you  too,  Brooks^ 


IQ  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

for  all  your  willing  help.  I'll  try  to  show  my 
appreciation  of  it  when  I  get  back." 

"But  Ada  and  little  Jim,  Lawrence;  surely 
they're  not  ready  for  that  long  journey  yet/'  said 
Frazier,  thinking  sorrowfully  of  what  his  wife 
had  told  him  only  the  day  before, — that  they  had 
no  decent  winter  clothing  to  their  names. 

"It's  all  right.  Old  Mammy  stays  right  here 
with  them.  She  has  taken  care  of  them,  you 
know,  ever  since  my  poor  wife  died.  I  can  keep 
my  old  quarters  a  month,  can't  I?"  he  queried, 
with  a  quivering  smile.  "  Even  if  the  order  isn't 
revoked,  it  would  be  a  month  or  more  before  any 
one  could  come  to  take  my  place.  Mrs.  Blythe 
will  look  after  the  children  day  and  night." 

Frazier  turned  appealingly  to  Brooks,  who 
shook  his  head  and  refused  to  speak,  and  so  the 
colonel  had  to. 

"  Lawrence,  God  knows  I  hate  to  say  one  word 
of  discouragement,  but  I  fear — I  fear  you'd  bet 
ter  wait  till  next  week's  stage  and  take  those 
poor  little  folks  with  you.  I've  watched  this 
thing.  I  know  how  a  dozen  good  fellows,  confi 
dent  as  yourself,  have  gone  on  to  "Washington  and 
found  it  all  useless." 

"It  can't  be  useless,  sir,"  burst  in  the  captain, 
impetuously.  "Truth  is  truth  and  must  prevail. 
If  after  all  my  years  of  service  I  can  find  no 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  tf 

friends  in  the  War  Office,  then  life  is  a  lie  and  a 
sham.  Senator  Hall  writes  me  that  he  will  leave 
no  stone  unturned.  No,  colonel,  I  take  the  stage 
at  noon  to-day.  "Will  you  let  Winn  ride  with  me 
as  far  as  Castle  Peak?  Fve  got  to  run  down  and 
see  Fuller  now." 

"Winn  can  go  with  you,  certainly;  but  indeed, 
Lawrence,  I  shall  have  to  see  you  again  about 
this." 

"I'll  stop  on  the  way  back,"  said  Lawrence, 
nervously.  "Fuller  promised  to  see  me  before 
he  went  out  to  his  ranch."  And  hastily  the  cap 
tain  turned  away. 

For  a  moment  the  two  seniors  stood  there 
silently  gazing  into  each  other's  eyes.  "What 
can  one  do  or  say?"  asked  the  colonel,  at  last.  "  I 
suppose  Fuller  is  going  to  let  him  have  money  for 
the  trip.  He  can  afford  to,  God  knows,  after  all 
he's  made  out  of  this  garrison.  But  the  question 
is,  ought  I  not  to  make  poor  Lawrence  understand 
that  it's  a  gone  case?  He  is  legally  out  already. 
His  successor  is  on  his  way  here.  I  got  the  letter 
this  morning." 

"On  his  way  here?  Who  is  he?"  queried  the 
major,  in  sudden  interest.  "They  didn't  know 
when  Stone  came  through  San  Antonio  ten  days 
ago." 

"Man  named  Barclay;  just  got  his  captaincy 
2 


13  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

in  the  30th, — but  was  consolidated  out  of  that,  of 
course." 

"Barclay — Barclay,  you  say?"  ejaculated  the 
major,  in  excitement.  ""Well,  of  all  the " 

"Of  all  the  what?"  demanded  the  colonel,  im 
patiently.  "  Nothing  wrong  with  him,  I  hope." 

"Wrong?  No,  or  they  wouldn't  have  dubbed 
him  Galahad.  But,  talk  about  ups  and  downs  in 
Texas,  this  beats  all.  Does  Winn  know?" 

"  I  don't  know  that  any  one  knows  but  you  and 
me,"  answered  the  veteran,  half  testily.  "  What's 
amiss?  What  has  Winn  to  do  with  it?" 

"Blood  and  blue  blazes!  Why,  of  course  you 
couldn't  know.  Three  years  ago  Barclay  believed 
himself  engaged  to  a  girl,  and  she  threw  him 
over  for  Winn,  and  now  we'll  have  all  three  of 
them  right  here  at  Worth." 


CHAPTER  II. 

IN  spite  of  what  Colonel  Frazier  could  say, 
Captain  Lawrence  had  gone  the  long  and  devious 
journey  to  Washington.  Those  were  the  days 
when  the  lumbering  stage-coach  once  a  week,  or 
a  rattling  ambulance,  bore  our  army  travellers 
from  the  far  frontier  to  San  Antonio.  Another 
trundled  and  bumped  them  away  to  the  Gulf.  A 
Morgan  Line  steamer  picked  them  up  and  tossed 
and  rolled  with  them  to  the  mouth  of  the  Missis 
sippi  and  unloaded  them  at  New  Orleans,  whence 
by  dusty  railway  journey  of  forty-eight  hours  or 
more  they  could  hope  to  reach  the  North.  The 
parting  between  Lawrence  and  his  tall  slip  of  a 
daughter  and  boisterous  little  Jimmy  was  some 
thing  women  wept  over  in  telling  or  hearing,  for 
only  two  looked  on,  well-nigh  blinded, — Mrs. 
Blythe,  who  had  been  devoted  to  their  mother, 
and  old  "  Mammy,"  who  was  devoted  to  them  all. 
A  month  had  rolled  by,  and  the  letters  that  came 
from  Lawrence  from  San  Antonio  and  Indianola 
and  New  Orleans  had  been  read  by  sympathizing 
friends  to  the  children.  Then  all  awaited  the 

news  from  Washington.     Every  one  knew  he 

19 


20  A   TROOPER  GALAHAD. 

would  wire  to  Department  Head-Quarters  the 
moment  the  case  was  settled  in  his  favor;  but  the 
days  went  by  without  other  tidings,  and  the 
croakers  who  had  predicted  ill  success  were 
mournfully  happy.  February  passed,  March  was 
ushered  in;  orders  came  transferring  certain  por 
tions  of  Frazier's  big  command,  and  certain  new 
officers  began  to  arrive  to  fill  the  three  or  four 
vacancies  existing,  but  the  new  captain  of  Troop 
"D"  of  the  cavalry  had  not  yet  appeared.  His 
fame,  however,  had  preceded  him,  and  all  Fort 
Worth  was  agog  to  meet  him.  Brooks  knew  but 
a  modest  bit  of  his  story,  and  what  he  knew  he 
kept  from  every  man  but  Frazier,  yet  had  had  to 
tell  his  wife.  The  Winns  were  silent  on  the  sub 
ject.  Winn  himself  was  a  man  of  few  intimates, 
— a  young  first  lieutenant  of  cavalry, — and  the 
tie  that  bound  him  to  Lawrence  was  the  fact  that 
he  and  Kitty  Tyrrell  were  first-cousins,  their 
mothers  sisters,  and  Winn,  a  tall,  athletic,  slender 
fellow,  frank,  buoyant,  handsome,  and  connected 
with  some  of  the  best  names  in  the  old  army,  was 
one  of  the  swells  of  his  class  at  the  Point  and  the 
beau  among  all  the  young  officers  the  summer  of 
his  graduation, — the  summer  that  Laura  Waite, 
engaged  to  Brevet  Captain  Galbraith  Barclay  of 
the  Infantry,  came  from  the  West  to  visit  rela 
tives  at  that  enchanting  spot,  spent  just  six  weeks 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  21 

there,  and,  after  writing  letters  all  one  month  to 
close  her  absent  lover's  eyes,  wound  up  by  writing 
one  that  opened  them.  She  was  a  beautiful  girl 
then;  she  was  a  lovely-looking  woman  now,  but 
the  bloom  was  gone.  The  brilliant  eyes  were 
often  clouded,  for  Harry  Winn  was  "his  aunt 
Kitty  all  over,"  said  many  a  man  who  knew  them 
both.  Their  name  was  impecuniosity.  That 
Mrs.  "Winn  could  tell  much  about  the  coming 
captain  letters  from  other  regiments  informed 
more  than  one  bright  woman  at  Worth;  but  that 
the  young  matron  would  tell  next  to  nothing, 
more  than  one  woman,  bright  or  blundering,  dis 
covered  on  inquiry.  Only  one  officer  now  at  the 
post  had  ever  served  with  Barclay,  and  that  was 
Brooks,  who  became  tongue-tied  so  soon  as  it  was 
settled  beyond  peradventure  that  Captain  Gal- 
braith  Barclay  from  the  unassigned  list  had  been 
gazetted  to  the  12th  Cavalry,  Troop  "D,"  vice 
Lawrence,  honorably  discharged.  But  Brooks 
had  letters,  so  had  Frazier,  from  old  officers  who 
had  served  with  the  transferred  man.  Some  of 
these  letters  referred  to  him  in  terms  of  admira 
tion,  while  another  spoke  of  him  unhesitatingly  as 
"more  kinds  of  a  damned  fool"  than  the  writer 
had  ever  met.  Yerily,  various  men  have  various 
minds. 

Presently,   however,   there  came  a  man  who 


22  ^   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

could  tell  lots  about  Barclay,  whether  lie  knew 
anything  or  not,  and  that  was  one  of  the  new 
transfers,  Lieutenant  Hodge  by  title  and  name. 
Hodge  said  he  had  served  with  the  30th  along 
the  Union  Pacific,  and  had  met  Barclay  often. 
In  his  original  regiment  Mr.  Hodge  had  been  re 
garded  as  a  very  monotonous  sort  of  man,  a  fellow 
who  bored  his  hearers  to  death,  and  the  contrast 
between  his  reception  in  social  circles  in  the  regi 
ment  he  had  left,  and  that  accorded  him  here  at 
Worth  so  soon  as  it  was  learned  that  he  knew 
Barclay,  inspired  Mr.  Hodge  to  say  that  these  peo 
ple  were  worth  knowing;  they  had  some  life  and 
intelligence  about  them.  The  gang  he  had  left 
in  "Wyoming  were  a  stupid  lot  of  owls  by  com 
parison.  For  a  week  Hodge  was  invited  to  din 
ner  by  family  after  family,  and  people  dropped 
in  to  spend  the  evening  where  he  happened  to  be, 
for  Hodge  held  the  floor  and  talked  for  hours 
about  Barclay,  and  what  he  had  to  tell  was  inter 
esting  indeed;  so  much  so,  said  Brooks,  that  some 
of  it  was  probably  a  preposterous  lie.  To  begin 
with,  said  Hodge,  Captain  Barclay  was  rich,  very- 
rich,  fabulously  rich,  perhaps;  nobody  knew  how 
rich,  and  nobody  would  have  known  he  was  rich 
at  all,  judging  from  the  simplicity  and  strict 
economy  of  his  life.  In  fact,  it  was  this  simplicity 
and  strict  economy  that  had  given  rise  to  the  belief 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  23 

that  existed  for  a  year  or  two  after  he  joined  the 
30th  that  he  was  hampered  either  with  debts  or 
with  dependent  relatives.  Relatives  they  knew  he 
had,  because  sisters  sent  their  boys  to  visit  him  at 
Sanders,  and  he  took  them  hunting,  fishing,  etc.; 
from  these  ingenuous  nephews  the  ladies  learned 
of  others,  nephews,  nieces,  sisters,  cousins,  aunts, 
who  wrote  long  letters  to  Uncle  Gal,  and  the  mail 
orderly  said  he  left  more  letters  at  Captain  Bar 
clay's  quarters  than  at  anybody's  else.  So  Fort 
Sanders  dropped  the  theory  of  debts  and  adopted 
that  of  dependants,  and  that  held  good  for  the 
first  year  of  his  service  with  them.  He  had  joined 
from  the  volunteers,  where  he  had  risen  to  the 
grade  of  major.  He  was  "  pious,"  said  Hodge, — 
wouldn't  drink,  smoke,  chew,  play  cards,  or  swear, 
— thought  they  ought  to  have  services  on  Sun 
day.  He  left  the  roistering  bachelors'  mess  soon 
after  his  reaching  the  post,  and  had  ever  since 
kept  house,  his  cook  and  housemaid  being  one  old 
darky  whom  he  had  "  accumulated"  in  the  South 
during  the  war, — a  darky  who  had  been  well- 
taught  in  the  household  of  his  old  master,  and 
who  became  extravagantly  attached  to  the  new. 
Hannibal  could  cook,  wait  at  table,  and  tend  door 
to  perfection,  but  he  had  to  learn  the  duties  of 
second  girl  when  his  master  joined  the  30th  in 
far  Wyoming,  and  that  was  the  only  time  a 


24  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

breach  was  threatened.  Hannibal's  dignity  was 
hurt.  He  had  been  body-servant  in  the  ante 
bellum  days,  butler,  cook,  coachman,  and  hostler, 
but  had  never  done  such  chores  as  Marse  Barclay 
told  him  would  fall  to  his  lot  when  that  reticent 
officer  set  up  his  modest  establishment.  Hannibal 
sulked  three  days,  and  even  talked  of  leaving. 
The  lieutenant  counted  out  a  goodly  sum,  all  Han 
nibal's  own,  and  told  him  that  he  would  find  the 
balance  banked  in  his  name  in  the  distant  East 
whenever  he  chose  to  quit;  then  Hannibal  broke 
down,  and  was  speedily  broken  in.  All  this  had 
Hodge  heard  when  the  dames  of  Sanders  and 
those  of  Steele  or  Russell  were  comparing  notes 
and  picnicking  together  along  that  then  new  won 
der  of  the  world,  the  Union  Pacific.  But  all  this 
was  only  preliminary  to  what  came  later. 

Little  detachments,  horse  and  foot,  were  scat 
tered  all  over  the  line  of  the  brand-new  railway 
while  it  was  being  built ;  every  now  and  then  the 
Indians  jumped  their  camps  and  working-parties, 
and  in  the  late  fall  of  '67  Barclay  had  a  stiff  and 
plucky  fight  with  a  band  of  Sioux;  he  was  se 
verely  wounded,  but  beat  them  off,  and  was  sent 
East  to  recuperate.  Now  came  particulars  Hodge 
could  not  give,  but  that  letters  could  and  did.  It 
was  while  Barclay  was  convalescing  at  Omaha 
Barracks  that  he  met  Miss  Laura  Waite,- 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  25 

beautiful  girl  and  a  garrison  belle.  She  was  ten 
years  his  junior.  This  was  her  first  winter  in 
army  society.  She  had  spent  her  girl  years  at 
school,  and  now  was  having  "simply  a  heavenly 
time,"  if  her  letters  could  be  believed.  Her 
father  was  a  field  officer  of  cavalry  with  rather  a 
solemn  way  of  looking  at  life,  and  her  mother  was 
said  to  be  the  explanation  of  much  of  his  solem 
nity, — she  being  as  volatile  as  he  was  staid.  She 
too  had  been  a  beauty,  and  believed  that  beauty 
a  permanent  fixture.  But  Laura  was  fresh  and 
fair,  sweet  and  winsome,  light-hearted  and  joy 
ous,  and  the  father  for  a  time  took  more  pride  in 
her  than  he  did  in  his  sons.  Major  Waite  was 
in  command  of  the  cantonment  from  which  the 
relief  party  was  sent  when  the  news  came  that 
Barclay  and  his  little  detachment  were  "cor 
ralled."  Major  Waite  became  enthusiastic  over 
the  details  of  the  cool,  courageous,  brainy  defence 
made  by  the  young  officer  against  tremendous 
odds,  covered  him  with  all  manner  of  thoughtful 
care  and  attention  when  he  was  brought  into  the 
cantonment,  then,  when  the  winter  soon  set  in 
and  the  camp  broke  up,  and  "Waite  went  back  to 
Omaha  Barracks,  he  took  Barclay  with  him  to 
his  house  instead  of  the  hospital,  and  the  rest  fol 
lowed  as  the  night  the  day. 

Barclay  spent  a  month  under  the  major's  roof, 


26  ^   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

won  his  esteem  and  friendship,  but  left  his 
heart  in  the  daughter's  hands.  If  ever  a  man 
devotedly  loved  a  beautiful,  winsome  young  girl, 
that  man  was  Galbraith  Barclay;  if  ever  a  girl's 
father  approved  of  a  man,  that  man  was  Bar 
clay;  and  if  ever  a  man  had  reason  to  hope 
that  his  suit  would  win  favor  in  a  father's  eyes, 
that  man  was  Barclay;  yet  it  did  not.  Major 
Waite's  reply  to  the  modest  yet  most  manful 
plea  of  Lieutenant  Barclay  to  be  permitted  to 
pay  his  addresses  to  the  major's  daughter  sur 
prised  every  one  to  whom  Mrs.  Waite  confided  it, 
and  they  were  not  few.  The  old  soldier  begged 
of  the  younger  not  to  think  of  it,  at  least  just  yet. 
But  when  it  transpired  that  the  younger  had  been 
most  seriously  thinking  of  it  and  could  think  of 
nothing  else,  then  the  major  changed  his  tune 
and  told  him  what  he  did  not  tell  his  wife;  and 
that  only  became  known  through  the  father's  own 
intemperate  language  long  months  after.  He 
told  Barclay  he  knew  no  man  to  whom  he  would 
rather  intrust  his  daughter's  happiness,  but  he 
feared,  he  believed,  she  was  still  too  young  to 
know  her  own  mind,  too  young  to  see  in  Barclay 
what  he  saw,  and  he  urged  that  the  young  officer 
should  wait.  But  Barclay  knew  Ms  own  mind. 
He  was  able,  he  said,  to  provide  for  her  in  com 
fort  either  in  or  out  of  the  army,  which  few  pos- 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  27 

sible  aspirants  could  say.  He  would  listen  to  no 
demur,  and  then  at  last  the  father  said,  "Try 
your  fate  if  you  will,  but  let  there  be  no  thought 
of  marriage  before  she  is  twenty, — before  she  can 
have  had  opportunity  of  seeing  something  of  the 
world  and  of  other  men, — not  these  young  whip- 
persnappers  just  joining  us  here.7' 

It  was  a  surprise  to  him  that  Laura  should  ac 
cept  Mr.  Barclay.  She  came  to  him,  her  father, 
all  happy  smiles  and  tears  and  blushes,  and  told 
him  how  proud  and  glad  a  girl  she  was,  because 
she  thought  her  lover  the  best  and  noblest  man 
she  ever  dreamed  of  except  her  own  dear  old  dad. 
For  a  time  Waite  took  heart  and  hoped  for  the 
best,  and  believed  her  and  her  mother,  as  indeed 
they  believed  themselves;  and  when  Barclay  went 
back  to  Sanders  at  the  end  of  January  he  was  a 
very  happy  man,  and  Laura  for  a  week  a  very 
lonely  girl.  Then  youth,  health,  elasticity,  vi 
vacity,  opportunity,  all  prevailed,  and  she  began 
to  take  notice  in  very  joyous  fashion.  She  did 
not  at  all  recognize  the  doctrine  preached  by  cer 
tain  mammas  and  certain  other  damsels,  that  she 
as  an  engaged  girl  should  hold  aloof  now  and  give 
the  other  girls,  not  so  pretty,  a  chance.  The  bar 
racks  were  gay  that  winter:  Laura  danced  with 
the  gayest,  and  when  Barclay  got  leave  in  April 
and  came  down  for  a  fortnight  he  found  himself 


28  4   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

much  in  the  way  of  two  young  gentlemen  who 
danced  delightfully,  a  thing  he  could  not  do  at 
all.  Yet  he  had  sweet  hours  with  his  sweetheart, 
and  grew  even  more  deeply  in  love,  so  beautiful 
was  she  growing,  and  went  back  to  Sanders  a 
second  time  thinking  himself  happiest  of  the 
happy,  or  bound  to  be  when,  in  the  coming  au 
tumn,  he  could  claim  her  as  his  own.  But  Waite 
was  troubled.  He  was  to  take  the  field  the  1st 
of  May;  his  troops  would  be  in  saddle  and  on 
scout  away  to  the  west  all  summer  long;  his  wife 
and  daughter  were  to  spend  those  months  at  the 
sea-shore  and  in  shopping  for  the  great  event  to 
come  in  November.  He  had  a  long,  earnest  talk 
with  Barclay  when  once  more  the  devoted  fellow 
came  to  see  the  lady  of  his  love  on  the  eve  of  her 
departure  for  the  East,  but  Barclay  looked  into 
her  radiant,  uplifted  eyes,  and  could  not  read  the 
shadow  of  coming  events,  of  which  she  was  as 
ignorant  as  he.  In  May  he  led  his  men  on  the 
march  to  the  Big  Horn,  and  in  June  she  led  with 
Cadet  Lieutenant  Winn  the  german  at  the  gradu 
ation  hop  at  West  Point.  Then  Winn  was  as 
signed  to  duty,  as  was  the  custom  of  the  day,  one 
of  two  or  three  young  graduates  chosen  as  assist 
ant  instructors  during  the  summer  camp.  He 
had  an  hour  to  devote  to  drill  each  morning  and 
a  dozen  to  devote  to  the  girls,  and  Laura  Wafte, 


A   TROOPER  GALAHAD.  29 

with  her  lovely  face  and  form,  was  the  talk  of 
the  brilliant  throng  of  visitors  that  summer.    She 
and  her  mother  returned  to  the  Point  as  guests 
of  some  old  friends  there  stationed,  a  visit  which 
was  not  on  the  original  programme  at  all.    Winn 
took  the  girl  riding  day  after  .day,  and  to  hops 
week  after  week.    The  shopping  for  the  wedding 
went  on  betweentimes,  and  Winn  even  escorted 
them  to  the  city  and  took  part  in  the  shopping. 
In  fine,  when  November  came,  in  spite  of  the 
furious  opposition  of  her  father,  in  spite  of.  his 
refusal  to  attend  the  ceremony  or  to  countenance 
it  in  any  way,  "Winn,  vice  Barclay,  honorably  dis 
charged,  appeared  as  groom,  and  bore  his  bride 
away  to  a  round  of  joyous  festivities  among  army 
friends  in  New  Orleans  and  San  Antonio  before 
their  final  exile  to  the  far  frontier.     From  that 
day  to  this  no  line  had   ever   come   from  the 
angered  and  aging  man,  even  when  Laura's  baby 
girl  was  born.    Funds  he  sent  from  time  to  time, 
— he  knew  he'd  have  to  do  that,  as  he  told  her 
mother  and  she  told  her  friends, — and  then,  just 
as  more  funds  were  much  needed  because  of  press 
ing  claims  of  creditors  whose  bills  had  not  been 
paid    from    previous    remittances,    Winn    being 
much  in  the  field  and  Laura  becoming  disburser 
general  in  his  absence,  the  major  suddenly  died, 
leaving  a  small  life  insurance  for  his  disconsolate 


30  A    TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

widow  and  nothing  to  speak  of  for  his  children. 
They  had  sucked  him  dry  during  his  busy  life. 

The  Winns  did  not  invite  Mr.  Hodge  to  din 
ner,  and  were  not  bidden  to  meet  him.  Laura 
was  still  in  light  mourning  for  her  father,  and 
for  days  she  really  heard  very  little  of  Hodge's 
revelations  regarding  her  discarded  Wyoming 
lover.  It  was  through  the  nurse-girl,  an  old 
soldier's  daughter,  that  she  first  began  to  glean 
the  chaff  of  the  stories  flitting  from  house  to 
house,  and  to  hear  the  exaggeration  of  Hodge's 
romancings  about  Captain  Barclay's  wealth,  for 
that,  after  all,  proved  the  most  vividly  interesting 
of  the  travellers'  tales  he  told.  Barclay  proved 
to  be,  said  Hodge,  an  expert  mineralogist  and 
geologist,  and  this  was  of  value  when  a  craze  for 
dabbling  in  mining  stocks  swept  over  Sanders. 
Barclay,  who  lived  so  simply  in  garrison,  was  dis 
covered  (through  a  breach  of  confidence  on  the 
part  of  the  officiating  clergyman,  that  well-nigh 
led  to  another  breach)  to  be  the  principal  sub 
scriber  to  the  mission  church  being  built  in 
Laramie  City.  It  suddenly  became  known  that 
Barclay  had  a  balance  in  the  local  bank  and  re 
serve  funds  at  the  East,  whereupon  promoters 
and  prospectors  by  the  dozen  called  upon  him  at 
the  fort  and  strove  to  induce  him  to  take  stock  in 
their  mines.  Nine  out  of  ten  were  sent  to  the 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  3^ 

right-about,  even  those  who  called  his  attention  to 
the  fact  that  Colonel  This  and  Major  That  were 
large  shareholders.  One  or  two  he  gave  ear  to, 
and  later  got  leave  of  absence  and  visited  their 
distant  claims.  He  was  out  prospecting,  said 
Hodge,  half  the  time  in  the  fall  of  '68.  The 
ventures  of  the  other  officers  seemed  to  prove 
prolific  sources  of  assessments.  The  Lord  only 
knows  how  much  fun  and  money  the  mine-owners 
of  those  days  got  out  of  the  army.  But  they 
failed  to  impress  the  puritanical  captain,  and  by 
the  summer  of  '69  they  ceased  to  do  business  in 
his  neighborhood,  for  before  sending  good  money 
after  bad,  officers  had  taken  to  consulting  Bar 
clay,  and  many  an  honest  fellow's  hoarded  savings 
were  spared  to  his  wife  and  children,  all  through 
Barclay's  calm  and  patient  exposition  of  the  fal 
lacy  of  the  "  Company's"  claims. 

Then,  said  Hodge,  when  Channing,  of  the 
27th,  was  killed  by  Red  Cloud's  band  back  of 
Laramie  Peak,  and  his  heart-broken  widow  and 
children  were  left  penniless,  somebody  found  the 
money  to  send  them  all  to  their  friends  in  New 
England  and  to  see  them  safely  established  there. 
And  when  Porter's  wife  was  taken  so  ill  while  he 
was  away  up  north  of  the  Big  Horn,  and  the  doc 
tor  said  that  a  trained  nurse  must  be  had  in  the 
first  place,  there  came  one  from  far  Chicago;  and 


32  ^   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

later,  after  Porter  reached  the  post,  overjoyed  to 
find  his  beloved  one  slowly  mending  and  so  skil 
fully  guarded,  the  doctors  told  him  she  must  be 
taken  to  the  sea-shore  or  the  South,  and,  though 
every  one  at  Sanders  knew  poor  Porter  had  not  a 
penny,  it  was  all  arranged  somehow,  and  Emily 
Porter  came  back  the  next  winter  a  rosy,  bloom 
ing,  happy  wife.  No  one  knew  for  certain  that 
all  the  needed  money  came  from  Barclay,  but  as 
the  Porters  seemed  to  adore  him  from  that  time 
on,  and  their  baby  boy  was  baptized  Galbraith 
Barclay,  everybody  had  reason  to  believe  it.  If 
Mrs.  Winn  ever  wanted  to  experience  the  exhila 
ration  of  hearing  what  other  people  thought  of 
her,  she  had  only,  said  Mr.  Hodge  in  confidence, 
to  turn  Mrs.  Porter  loose  on  that  subject. 

Then,  too,  said  Hodge,  there  was  Ordnance 
Sergeant  Murphy  and  his  family,  burned  out  one 
winter's  night  with  all  their  savings,  and  the  old 
man  dreadfully  scorched  in  trying  to  rescue  his 
strong  box  from  the  flames.  It  must  have  been 
Barclay  who  looked  after  the  mother  and  kids  all 
the  time  the  old  man  was  moaning  in  hospital. 
They  moved  him  into  a  newly  furnished  and  com 
fortable  shack  inside  of  a  fortnight,  and  the  Mur- 
phys  had  another  saint  on  their  domestic  calendar, 
despite  the  non-appearance  of  his  name  in  the 
voluminous  records  of  their  Church.  All  this  and 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  33 

more  did  Hodge  tell  of  Barclay,  as  in  duty  bound, 
he  said,  after  first  telling  what  other  fellows  long 
said  of  him, — that  he  was  close  and  mean,  a  prig, 
a  namby-pamby  (despite  the  way  he  fought  Crow- 
Killer's  warlike  band),  a  wet  blanket  to  garrison 
joys,  etc.,  etc.;  and  yet  they  really  couldn't  tell 
why.  He  subscribed  just  as  much  to  the  hop 
fund,  though  he  didn't  hop, — to  the  supper  fund, 
though  he  didn't  sup, — to  the  mess  fund  for  the 
entertainment  of  visiting  officers,  though  he  clidn't 
drink, — to  the  dramatic  fund,  though  he  couldn't 
act, — to  the  garrison  hunt,  though  they  said  he 
couldn't  ride.  But  he  declined  to  give  one  cent 
towards  the  deficiency  bill  that  resulted  when 
Sanders  entertained  Steele  at  an  all-night  sym 
posium  at  the  sutler's  and  opened  case  after  case 
of  champagne  and  smoked  box  after  box  of  cigars. 
"  It  was  a  senseless,  soulless  proceeding,"  said  he, 
with  brutal  frankness.  "Half  the  money  you 
drank  or  smoked  up  in  six  hours  could  have 
clothed  and  fed  all  the  children  in  Sudstown  for 
six  months." 

"Lord,  but  they  were  mad  all  through,"  said 
Hodge,  when  describing  it.  "There  wasn't  a 
name  they  didn't  call  him  all  that  winter." 

"And  yet  I  hear,"  said  Mrs.  Tremaine,  a 
woman  Fort  Worth  loved  and  looked  up  to  as  the 

— th  did  to  Mrs.  Stannard,  "  that  for  a  long  time 

3 


34  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

past  they  have  called  him  Sir  Galahad  instead  of 
Galbraith." 

"Oh,"  said  Hodge,  "that's  one  of  old  Glea- 
son's  jokes.  He  said  they  called  him  '  Gal  I  had' 
when  he  went  to  Omaha  and  i  Gal  I  hadn't'  when 
he  got  back," — a  statement  which  sent  Major 
Brooks  swearing  sotto  voce  from  the  room. 

"  I  don't  know  which  I'd  rather  kick,"  said  he, 
"Hodge  or  Gleason.  I'd  rejoice  in  Barclay's 
coming  if  it  weren't — if  Lawrence  were  only  here, 
if  Winn  were  only  away." 


CHAPTER  III. 

AN  unhappy  man  was  Major  Brooks  that 
gloomy  month  of  March.  The  news  from  Wash 
ington  via  Department  Head-Quarters  was  most 
discouraging  as  to  Lawrence.  He  was  both  look 
ing  and  doing  ill.  It  seemed  to  "break  him  all 
up,"  said  a  letter  from  a  friend  in  the  Adjutant- 
GeneraFs  office,  that  so  few  could  be  found  to 
urge  the  Secretary  to  do  something  for  him. 
What  could  they  do?  was  the  answer.  Admit 
ting  that  Lawrence  had  been  grievously  wronged, 
"whose  fault  was  it?"  said  the  Secretary;  "not 
mine."  He  had  only  acted  on  the  information 
and  recommendation  of  officers  to  whom  this 
work  had  been  intrusted.  If  they  had  erred,  he 
should  have  been  informed  of  it  before.  "How 
could  you  be  informed,"  said  the  Senator  who 
had  championed  the  poor  fellow's  cause,  "when 
you  resorted  to  a  system  that  would  have  shamed 
a  Spaniard  in  the  days  of  the  Inquisition,  or  the 
Bourbons  with  their  lettres  de  cachet  and  the  Bas- 
tile?"  No  one  dreamed  that  Lawrence  was  in 
danger  until  he  was  done  to  death,  and  so,  out  of 
money,  out  of  clothes,  out  of  hope,  health,  and 

35 


36  A.    TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

courage,  poor  Ned  was  fretting  his  heart  out, 
while  tender  women  and  loyal  friends  were  keep 
ing  guard  over  his  shabby  army  home  and  caring 
for  his  two  motherless  lambs  away  out  on  the  far 
frontier,  awaiting  the  day  when  he  should  be  re 
stored  to  them. 

It  did  not  come,  nor  did  Lawrence.  An  old 
comrade  of  the  Sixth  Corps,  a  gallant  volunteer 
brigade  commander,  then  in  prosperous  circum 
stances  at  Washington,  had  given  him  the  shelter 
of  his  home,  only  too  gladly  keeping  him  in  ra 
tions  and  cigars,  as  he  would  have  done  in  clothes 
and  pocket-money,  but  he  shook  his  head  at 
whiskey.  "For  God's  sake,  Ned,  and  Tor  your 
babies'  sake,  leave  that  alone.  It  can't  help  you. 
You  never  were  a  drinking  man  before.  Don't 
drink  now,  or  your  nerve  will  give  out  utterly." 
This  and  more  he  urged  and  pleaded,  but  Law 
rence's  pride  seemed  crushed  and  his  heart 
broken.  Legal  advisers  told  his  friends  at  last 
that  restoration  was  impossible:  his  place  was 
filled.  He  had  only  one  course  left  if  he  would 
listen  to  nothing  but  restoration  to  the  army,  and 
that  was  to  accept  a  second  lieutenancy  and  be 
gin  over  again  at  the  bottom  of  the  list.  They 
broached  it  to  him,  and  he  broke  out  into  wild, 
derisive  laughter.  "Good  God!  do  you  mean  that 
a  man  who  has  served  fifteen  years  in  the  army, 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  37 

fought  all  through  the  war  and  served  as  I  have 
served,  must  step  down  from  the  squadron  cap 
taincy  to  ride  behind  the  boys  just  out  of  the 
Point?  be  ranked  out  of  quarters  by  my  own  son- 
in-law  the  next  thing  I  know!  I'll  see  the  army 
in  hell  first,"  was  his  furious  reply. 

"No,  Ned,  not  hell,  but  Texas.  Take  it;  go 
back  to  the  line,  and  once  you're  back  in  the  army 
in  any  grade  we'll  legislate  you  up  to  the  majority 
you  deserve:  see  if  we  don't." 

But  Lawrence  had  lost  all  faith  in  promises,  or 
in  Congressional  action.  He  turned  in  contempt 
from  the  proposition,  and  in  early  April  came  the 
tidings  to  San  Antonio  that  he  was  desperately 
ill. 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Hodge  had  lost  the  prestige  of 
his  first  appearance  at  Worth,  and  fell  into  the 
customary  rut  of  the  subaltern.  People  found  him 
as  monotonous  as  did  the  martyrs  of  the  Upper 
Platte,  and,  from  having  been  the  most  sought- 
after  of  second  lieutenants,  he  dropped  back  to 
the  plane  of  semi-obscurity.  This  was  galling. 
Hodge's  stock  in  trade  had  been  the  facts  or  fa 
bles  in  his  possession  concerning  the  absent  Cap 
tain  Barclay,  whose  present  whereabouts  and 
plans  were  shrouded  in  mystery.  A  rumor  came 
that  he  had  decided  not  to  join  at  all;  that  he 
was  In  "Washington  striving  to  arrange  a  transfer; 


38  A   TROOPEIt   GALAHAD. 

that  his  assignment  to  the  regiment  and  to  the 
post  where  he  must  meet  the  woman  who  had 
jilted  him  for  a  cavalry  subaltern  was  something 
unforeseen  and  not  to  be  tolerated.  The  muster 
roll  couldn't  account  for  him  other  than  as  per 
mitted  to  delay  three  months  by  Special  Orders 
]STo.  So-and-so,  War  Department,  A.G.O.,  Janu 
ary  25,  1871.  This  gave  Hodge  unlooked-for  re 
inforcements.  A  fortnight  passed  in  March  with 
out  a  bid  to  dinner  anywhere,  without  a  request 
for  further  particulars  as  to  Sir  Galahad.  So 
long  as  that  interesting  personage  was  expected 
any  day  to  appear  and  answer  for  himself,  it  be 
hooved  Hodge  to  be  measurably  guarded  in  his 
statements,  to  keep  within  the  limits  of  his  au 
thorities;  but  one  day  there  came  a  letter  from 
a  lady  at  Department  Head-Quarters  to  Mrs. 
Brooks,  and  before  Brooks  himself  was  made 
aware  of  the  contents,  he  being  at  the  club-room 
playing  "  pitch"  and  therefore  beyond  the  pale  of 
feminine  consideration,  the  news  was  going  the 
rounds  of  the  garrison. 

Mrs.  Pelham,  who  was  spending  the  winter  in 
Washington,  had  written  to  an  old  and  devoted 
friend  of  Major  Waite's  some  very  interesting 
news  about  Captain  Barclay.  The  captain  was 
in  Washington  a  whole  week,  but  had  not  called 
on  Mrs.  Pelham,  though  she  had  done  everything 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  39 

she  could  think  of  for  him  when  he  was  wounded. 
(The  Pelhams  were  then  at  McPherson  and  near 
old  Waite's  summer  camp,  but  no  one  ever  heard 
of  her  ladyship's  ever  taking  the  faintest  interest 
in  Barclay  until  after  he  developed  into  a  mine- 
owner  and  had  been  jilted  by  Laura  Waite.)  But 
let  Mrs.  Pelham  talk  for  herself,  as  she  usually 
did,  as  well  as  for  every  one  else.  "  He  spent  the 
first  week  in  February  here,  leaving  just  before 
poor  Captain  Lawrence  came.  No  wonder  he 
didn't  wish  to  meet  him!  And  Mrs.  Waite  was 
there,  buttonholing  everybody  to  get  her  pension 
increased,  and  wearing  the  costliest  crape  you 
ever  saw,  my  dear,  and — think  of  it! — solitaire 
diamond  ear-rings  with  it!  She  had  a  room  in 
a  house  where  several  prominent  Congressmen 
boarded,  and  was  known  as  'the  fascinating 
widow.7  She  sent  to  Barclay, — would  you  believe 
it? — and  begged  him  to  come  to  see  her,  and  he 
actually  did;  and  Mrs.  Cutts,  who  lives  in  the 
same  house,  told  me  that  you  ought  to  have  seen 
her  that  day, — no  solitaire  ear-rings  or  handsome 
crape,  mind  you,  but  tears  and  bombazine;  and 
Mrs.  Cutts  vows  that  he  gave  her  money.  That 
woman  is  angling  for  another  husband,  and  has 
been  ever  since  poor  "Waite's  death,  and  if  any 
thing  were  to  happen  to  Mr.  Winn  it's  just  what 
Laura  would  be  doing  too.  It  runs  in  the  blood, 


40  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

my  dear.  You  know,  and  I  know,  that  all  the 
time  she  was  at  Omaha  Barracks  and  the  major 
in  the  field,  she — a  woman  with  a  grown  son  and 
a  graduating  daughter — was  dancing  with  the 
boys  at  the  hops  and  riding — yes,  and  buggy- 
riding — with  bachelors  like  those  wretches  Gates 
and  Hagadorn."  Buggy-riding  was  the  unpar 
donable  sin  in  Mrs.  Pelham's  eyes,  she  being  "  too 
massive  to  sit  in  anything  short  of  the  side  seat 
of  an  ambulance,"  as  said  a  regimental  wit;  and 
Mrs.  Pelham  looked  with  eyes  of  disfavor  on 
women  who  managed  to  "keep  their  waists"  as 
Mrs.  Waite  did. 

"But  let  me  tell  you  about  Captain  Barclay," 
continued  the  letter.  "  General  Corliss  called  to 
see  me  two  evenings  ago  and  said  he  heard  that 
Barclay  was  actually  a  millionaire, — that  he  had 
large  interests  in  Nevada  mines  that  were  proving 
fabulously  rich.  You  can  understand  that  I 
wasn't  at  all  surprised  to  hear  that  the  general 
had  intimated  to  Mr.  Eay,  of  his  staff,  that  it 
would  be  much  better  for  him  to  go  and  serve 
with  his  regiment  awhile.  Kay  wouldn't  be  an 
acceptable  son-in-law;  he  has  no  money  and  too 
many  fascinations,  and  there  are  both  the  Corliss 
girls,  you  know,  to  be  provided  for,  and  Miranda 
is  already  passe,  and  Ray  has  resigned  the  place, 
and  the  place  is  vacant,  for — would  you  believe 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  4^ 

it? — they  say  the  general  tendered  it  to  Barclay, 
and  Barclay  declined.  Why,  when  we  were  all 
at  McPherson  there  wasn't  anything  satirical  the 
Corlisses  didn't  say  about  Barclay,  and  now  that 
he  has  money  they  bow  down  to  and  worship 
him."  ("  Something  Mrs.  Pelham  wouldn't  do 
for  the  world,"  said  Mrs.  Brooks  to  herself,  with 
an  odd  smile.)  "  And  when  the  general  was  asked 
about  it  yesterday  he  couldn't  deny  having  made 
the  offer,  but  said  the  reason  Captain  Barclay  de 
clined  was  that  he  would  very  probably  resign  in 
a  few  weeks,  his  business  interests  being  such  as 
to  render  it  necessary  for  him  to  leave  the  army. 
So,  my  dear,  you  won't  have  the  millionaire  in 
Texas,  after  all,  and  I  fancy  how  deeply  Laura 
Winn  will  be  disappointed.  JSTo  matter  how  much 
she  cares  for  her  husband,  she  wouldn't  be  Jier 
mother's  daughter  if  she  didn't  try  to  fascinate 
him  over  again." 

Fancy  the  comfort  of  having  such  a  letter  as 
that  to  read  to  an  appreciative  audience!  Mrs. 
Brooks  fled  with  it  to  Mrs.  Frazier,  who  thought 
it  ought  not  to  be  read, — it  was  too  like  Dorothy 
Pelham  for  anything.  But  Mrs.  Brooks  took  and 
read  it  to  neighbors  who  were  chatting  and  sew 
ing  together  and  had  no  such  scruples.  And  that 
night  it  was  dribbling  about  the  post  that  Barclay 
had  decided  to  resign,  had  refused  a  detail  on  the 


42  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

staff  of  General  Corliss:  somebody  else  would  get 
Ned  Lawrence's  troop.  Brooks  heaved  a  sigh  and 
said  to  himself  he  was  glad  of  it,  and  the  women 
heaved  a  sigh  and  wished  he  might  have  come,  if 
only  for  a  little  while,  just  to  make  things  inter 
esting:  "it  would  be  such  a  novelty  to  have  a 
millionaire  mine-owner  in  garrison  and  actually 
doing  duty  as  a  captain  of  cavalry.'7  Finally  they 
began  to  wonder  what  Mrs.  Winn  would  say  now, 
she  having  had  nothing  at  all  to  say. 

That  very  evening  it  chanced  to  occur  to  Mr. 
Hodge  that  he  had  not  returned  Lieutenant 
Winn's  call  (by  card, — the  cavalryman  having 
dropped  in  when  he  knew  the  new  arrival  to  have 
dropped  out),  and  when  Hodge  presented  himself 
at  the  Winns'  (he  had  spoken  of  his  intention  at 
mess  in  the  presence  and  hearing  of  the  negro  at 
tendant,  who  had  mentioned  it  without  delay  to 
the  Winns'  colored  combination  of  cook  and 
serving-maid,  who  had  come  over  to  borrow  a  cup 
of  cooking  sherry,  it  being  too  far  to  the  sutler's, 
and  that  damsel  had  duly  notified  her  mistress  of 
the  intended  honor),  he  was  shown  into  the  dimly 
lighted  army  sitting-room,  where,  toasting  her 
feet  before  the  fire,  sat  dreaming  the  young  mis 
tress  of  the  establishment,  who  started  up  in  ap 
parent  surprise.  She  had  heard  neither  the  step 
nor  the  ring.  Very  possibly  she  was  dozing,  she 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  43 

admitted,  for  baby  was  sleeping  aloft  and  her 
husband  was  gone.  She  was  attired  in  a  silken 
gown  that  Hodge  described  somewhat  later  at  the 
major's  as  "puffickly  stunning," — a  garment  that 
revealed  the  rich  curves  of  her  beautiful  throat 
and  neck  and  arms;  women  who  heard  wondered 
why  she  should  be  wearing  that  most  becoming 
evening  robe  when  there  was  not  even  a  hop. 
She  looked  handsomer  than  the  gown,  said  Hodge, 
as  she  rose  and  greeted  him,  her  cheeks  flushed, 
her  eyes  languorous  and  smouldering  at  first,  then 
growing  slowly  brilliant.  She  apologized  for  the 
absence  of  Mr.  Winn.  He  was  spending  much 
time  at  the  office  just  now.  "He  is  regimental 
commissary,  you  know,  or  at  least  he  has  been," 
she  explained.  Hodge  knew  all  about  that,  and 
he  also  knew  that  if  what  he  heard  about  the  post 
was  true  it  would  have  been  better  had  Winn 
spent  more  time  at  the  office  before.  Then  Mrs. 
Winn  was  moved  to  be  gracious.  She  had  heard 
so  many,  many  pleasant  things  of  Mr.  Hodge 
since  his  arrival.  She  was  so  honored  that  he 
should  call  when  he  must  be  having  so  many 
claims  on  his  time,  so  many  dinner-calls  to  pay. 
She  and  Mr.  Winn  were  so  sorry  they  had  been 
unable  to  entertain  Mr.  Hodge,  but,  until  the 
cook  they  were  expecting  from  San  Antonio  came, 
they  were  positively  starving,  and  could  invite  no 


44  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

one  to  share  their  scraps.  "That  cook  has  been 
expected  a  whole  year,"  said  other  women,  but 
Mrs.  Winn  paraded  him  as  the  cause  of  her  social 
short-comings  as  confidently  as  ever.  Then  Mrs. 
Winn  went  on  to  speak  of  how  much  she  had 
heard  of  Hodge  at  Omaha, — dear  Omaha. 
""What  lovely  times  we  had  along  the  Platte  in 
the  good  old  days!"  Hodge  blushed  with  joy, 
and  preened  and  twittered  and  thought  how 
blessed  a  thing  it  was  to  be  welcomed  to  the  fire 
side  of  such  a  belle  and  beauty  and  to  be  remem 
bered  by  her  as  one  of  the  gay  young  bachelors  at 
Sidney.  "  Such  wicked  stories  as  we  heard  of  you 
scapegraces  from  time  to  time,"  said  she,  whereat 
Hodge  looked  as  though  he  might,  indeed,  have 
been  shockingly  wicked,  as  perhaps  he  had.  In 
deed,  she  feared  they,  the  young  officers,  were  "  a 
sad  lot,  a  sad  lot,"  and  looked  up  at  him  from 
under  the  drooping  lashes  in  a  way  that  prompted 
him  to  an  inspiration  that  was  almost  electric  in 
its  effect  on  him.  Hodge  fairly  seemed  to  sparkle, 
to  scintillate.  "Sad!  We  were  in  despair,"  said 
he,  "  but  that  was  when  we  heard  of  your  engage 
ment — oh,  ah,  the  second  one,  I  mean,"  he  stum 
bled  on,  for  it  would  never  do,  thought  he,  to 
mention  the  first. 

But  he  need  have  had  no  hesitation.     Laura 
Winn  had  heard  from  other  and  obscurer  sources 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  45 

something  of  the  rumors  floating  over  the  post 
that  very  day.  She  had  planned  to  drop  in  at 
the  colonel's,  where  the  Fraziers  entertained  at 
dinner  and  music  that  very  evening,  in  hopes  of 
hearing  accidentally  something  definite,  for  Winn 
was  one  of  those  useless  husbands  who  never  hear 
anything  of  current  gossip.  But  women  might 
not  talk  if  they  thought  she  wished  to  hear,  and 
fate  had  provided  her  a  better  means.  She  saw 
here  and  now  the  opportunity  and  the  man.  It 
was  Hodge  who  had  told  so  much  that  was  of 
vivid  interest  to  her.  It  was  Hodge  she  had  been 
longing  to  meet  for  days,  but  Winn  had  held  him 
aloof,  and  now  here  she  had  this  ingenuous  reposi 
tory  of  Barclayisms  all  to  herself  until  Winn 
should  return;  the  chance  was  not  to  be  lost. 

"I  love  to  live  over  those  dear  old  days  when 
I  was  a  girl,"  she  said.  "Friends  seemed  so  real 
then,  men  so  true,  life  so  buoyant.  Sometimes 
I  find  myself  wishing  there  were  more  of  the  old 
friends,  the  old  set,  here.  We  seem — so  much 
more  to  each  other,  don't  you  know,  Mr.  Hodge?" 
And  Hodge  felt  sure  "we"  did,  and  hitched  his 
chair  a  foot  nearer  the  fire. 

"Of  course  I  was  younger  then,  and  knew  so 
little  of  the  world,  and  yet,  knowing  it  as  I  do 
now — I  can  say  this  to  you,  you  know,  Mr. 
Hodge, — I  couldn't  to  another  soul  here,  for  you 


46  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

were  of  us,  you  served  with  father's  column" 
(Hodge's  service  was  limited  .to  playing  poker 
with  "those  wretches  Gates  and  Hagadorn"  and 
others  of  Waite's  command  on  one  or  two  mem 
orable  occasions,  and  the  resultant  hole  in  his 
purse  was  neither  as  broad  as  a  church  nor  deep 
as  a  well,  but  'twould  serve).  "I've  often  felt 
here  as  though  I  would  give  anything  to  see  some 
of  the  dear  old  crowd;  not  that  people  are  not 
very  lovely  here,  but,  you  know,  we  army  friends 
cling  so  to  the  old  associations."  And  now  the 
beautiful  eyes  seemed  almost  suffused,  and  Hodge 
waxed  eloquent. 

"  I  am  thrice  fortunate,"  said  he,  recalling  the 
lines  of  his  Maltravers,  "in  that  I  am  numbered 
among  them."  And  now,  like  Laura,  he  looked 
upon  Worth  as  cold  and  dormant  as  compared 
with  the  kindling  friendships  of  the  distant 
Platte. 

"Indeed  you  are!"  said  she.  "You  bring  back 
the  sweetest  days  of  my  life,  and  some  of  the 
saddest.  I  have  no  one  to  speak  to  me,  you  know, 
—of  course — until  you  did  a  moment  ago.  Tell 
me,  is — is  his  life  so  changed  as — as  they  say 
it  is?" 

"  I  never  saw  a  man  so  broke  up,"  he  responded. 
"  He  never  smiled  after  you — after — after  it  was 
broken  off,  you  know."  Barclay's  smile  was  as 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  47 

rare  as  a  straight  flush  anyhow,  he  admitted  to 
himself,  but  the  assertion  sounded  well. 

"And — of  late — what  have  you  heard  of  him?" 
she  asked.  And  Hodge  poured  forth  his  latest 
news,  and  added  more.  He,  too,  he  said,  had  had 
a  letter  from  an  intimate  friend.  Captain  Bar 
clay  had  declared  that  the  assignment  to  the 
Twelfth  Cavalry  was  impossible,  Texas  was  im 
possible.  His  business  interests  would  necessitate 
his  declining  if,  indeed,  there  were  no  other 
reasons.  General  Corliss  had  tendered  him  the 
position  of  aide-de-camp  and  made  Billy  Eay  of 
the  — th  resign  to  make  way  for  him,  and  the 
moment  Barclay  found  that  out  he  went  to  Ray 
and  told  him  the  whole  business  was  without  his 
(Barclay's)  knowledge,  and  sooner  than  displace 
him  he  would  refuse.  "  Yes,"  said  Hodge,  "  that's 
the  way  my  friend  heard  it  from  Ray  himself. 
ISTow,  if  Barclay  could  only  get  a  detail  on  Mc 
Dowell's  staff  in  California  it  would  have  suited 
him  to  a  tee;  then  he  could  have  looked  after  his 
Nevada  interests  and  his  Wyoming  pensioners 
too." 

Did  Mr.  Hodge  know  surely  about  Mr.  Bar 
clay's  wealth?  "Was  it  all  true?  he  was  asked. 

Oh,  yes,  there  wasn't  a  doubt  of  it,  said  Hodge. 
It  was  just  another  of  those  cases  where  a  man 
had  money  in  abundance,  and  yet  would  have 


48  4   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

given  it  all,  he  added,  sentimentally,  but  here  she 
uplifted  rebukingly  her  white,  slim  hand,— or 
was  it  warningly?  for  there  came  a  quick  footfall 
on  the  porch  without.  The  hall  door  opened 
sharply,  letting  in  a  gust  of  cold  night  wind,  and, 
throwing  off  his  cavalry  cape  with  its  faded  yel 
low  lining,  Lieutenant  Winn  strode  through  the 
hallway  into  his  little  den  at  the  rear. 

uYou  will  come  and  see  me  again/'  she  mur 
mured  low,  while  yet  the  footsteps  resounded,  "it 
has  been  so — good  to  see  you, — so  like  old  times. 
We'll  have  to  talk  of  other  things  now.  Mr. 
"Winn  doesn't  like  old  times  too  well." 

But  Mr.  Winn  never  so  much  as  looked  in  the 
parlor  door  until  she  called  to  him.  Then,  as 
she  saw  his  face,  the  young  wife  arose  with 
anxiety  in  her  own. 

"What  is  it?  Where  are  you  going — with 
your  revolver,  too?  Mr.  Hodge,  dear." 

"  Oh-h !  Beg  pardon,  Mr.  Hodge.  Glad  to  see 
you,"  was  Winn's  distraught  acknowledgment  of 
the  presence  of  the  visitor,  as  he  extended  a  re 
luctant  hand.  "My  sergeant  can't  be  found,"  he 
went  on,  hurriedly.  "They  say  he's  gone  to  Ful 
ler's  ranch,  and  it  may  be  all  right,  but  the  colo 
nel  has  ordered  out  a  patrol  to  fetch  him  back. 
Don't  worry,  Laurie;  I  may  have  to  ride  out  with 
it." 


A   TROOPER  GALAHAD.  49 

And  hurriedly  lie  kissed  her  and  bounded  down 
the  steps. 

For  a  moment  she  stood  in  the  doorway,  the 
light  from  the  hall  lamp  shining  on  her  dusky 
hair  and  proud,  beautiful  face,  forgetful  of  the 
man  who  stood  gazing  at  her.  Then  with  a  shiver 
she  suddenly  turned. 

"It's  the  second  time  that  Sergeant  Marsden 
has  been  missed  in  just  this  way,  when  he  was 
most  needed,  and — it's  so  imprudent,  so — and  my 
husband  is  so  imprudent,  so  unsuspicious.  Mr. 
Hodge,"  she  cried,  impulsively,  "if  you've  heard 
anything,  or  if  you  do  hear  anything,  about  him 
or  Mr.  Winn,  be  a  friend  to  me  and  tell  me,  won't 
you?"  And  there  was  nothing  Hodge  would  not 
have  promised,  nothing  he  would  not  have  told, 
but  the  door  of  the  adjoining  quarters  slammed, 
an  officer  came  striding  along  the  porch  common 
to  the  double  set,  and  the  clank  of  a  sabre  was 
heard  as  he  neared  them. 

"Winn  gone?"  he  asked.  "Don't  worry,  Mrs. 
Winn.  "We'll  overhaul  that  scoundrel  before  he 
can  reach  the  settlements,  unless " 

"But  what  is  wrong?  "What  has  happened, 
Mr.  Brayton?"  she  asked,  her  face  white  with 
dread,  her  heart  fluttering. 

"My  Lord,  Mrs.  Winn,  I  beg  your  pardon!  I 
supposed  of  course  he  had  told  you.  Marsden's 


50  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

bolted.  Colonel  Eiggs,  the  inspector-general,  got 
here  to-night  with  Captain  Barclay,  instead  of 
coming  by  regular  stage  Saturday,  and  Marsden 
lit  out  the  moment  he  heard  of  their  arrival.  Of 
course  we  hope  Winn  isn't  badly  bitten." 

But  her  thoughts  were  of  another  matter  now. 
"Captain  Barclay,"  she  faltered,  "here?  Why, 
I—I  heard " 

"Yes,"  shouted  the  young  officer,  as  he  went 
clattering  down  the  steps.  "  'Scuse  me — I've  got 
to  mount  at  once,"  as  an  orderly  came  running  up 
at  the  moment  with  his  horse.  "  Eiggs  has  come, 
post-haste,  only  Barclay  and  one  man  with  him 
besides  the  driver.  It's  lucky  that  Friday  gang 
never  got  wind  of  it." 


OHAPTEK   IV. 

FOE  forty-eight  hours  Fort  Worth  was  in  tur 
moil.  To  begin  with,  the  sudden,  unheralded 
advent  of  a  department  inspector  in  those  days 
meant  something  ominous,  and  from  Frazier 
down  to  the  drum-boys  the  garrison  scented  mis 
chief  the  moment  that  familiar  old  black-hooded, 
dust-covered  spring  wagon,  drawn  by  the  famous 
six-mule  team,  came  spinning  in  across  the  mesa 
just  after  retreat,  no  escort  whatever  being  in 
sight.  Cavalrymen  had  trotted  alongside,  said 
Eiggs,  from  two  of  the  camps  on  the  way,  but 
they  had  made  that  long  day's  drive  from 
Crockett  Springs  all  alone,  trusting  to  luck  that 
the  Friday  gang,  so  called,  would  not  get  wind  of 
it.  Just  who  and  how  many  constituted  that 
array  of  outlaws  no  man,  including  its  own  mem 
bership,  could  accurately  say.  Two  paymasters, 
two  wagon-trains,  and  no  end  of  mail-stages  had 
been  "  jumped"  by  those  enterprising  road  agents 
in  the  course  of  the  five  years  that  followed  the 
war,  and  not  once  had  a  conviction  occurred.  Ar 
rests  had  been  made  by  marshals,  sheriffs,  and 
officers  in  command  of  detachments,  but  a  more 
innocent  lot  of  victims,  according  to  the  testi- 

51 


52  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

mony  of  friends  and  fellow-citizens,  never  dwelt 
in  Dixie.  Three  only  of  their  number  had  been 
killed  and  left  for  recognition  in  the  course  of 
those  three  years.  One  only  of  these  was  known, 
and  the  so-called  Friday  gang  managed  to  sur 
round  its  haunts,  its  movements,  and  its  member 
ship  with  a  mystery  that  defied  civil  officials  and 
baffled  the  military.  Escorts  the  size  of  a  cavalry 
platoon  had  been  needed  every  time  a  disbursing 
officer  went  to  and  fro,  and  a  sizable  squad  accom 
panied  the  stage  whenever  it  carried  even  a 
moderate  amount  of  treasure.  At  three  points 
along  the  road  from  the  old  Mexican  capital  to 
the  outlying  posts,  strong  detachments  of  cavalry 
had  been  placed  in  camp,  so  that  relays  of  escorts 
might  be  on  hand  when  needed.  At  three  dif 
ferent  times  within  the  past  two  years,  strong 
posses  had  gone  with  the  civil  officials  far  into  the 
foot-hills  in  search  of  the  haunts  of  the  band,  but 
no  occupied  haunt  was  ever  found,  no  band  of  any 
size  or  consequence  ever  encountered;  yet  depre 
dations  were  incessant.  The  mail-stage  came  and 
went  with  guarded  deliberation.  The  quarter 
master's  trains  were  accompanied  by  at  least  a 
company  of  infantry.  The  sutler's  wagons 
travelled  with  the  quartermaster's  train,  and  the 
sutler's  money  went  to  San  Antonio  only  when 
the  quartermaster  and  commissary  sent  theirs, 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  53 

and  then  a  whole  squadron  had  been  known  to 
ride  in  charge.  Anything  from  a  wagon-train 
down  to  a  blackboard  was  game  for  the  gang,  and 
soldiers,  ranchmen,  and  prospectors  told  stories  of 
having  been  halted,  overhauled,  and  searched  by 
its  masked  members  at  various  times,  and,  whether 
found  plethoric  or  poor,  having  been  hospitably 
entertained  as  soon  as  robbed  of  all  they  pos 
sessed.  Only  four  days  before  Riggs  made  his 
venturesome  dash,  three  discharged  soldiers,  filled 
with  impatience  and  whiskey,  had  sought  to  run 
the  gauntlet  to  the  camp  at  Crockett's,  and  came 
back,  in  the  robbers'  cast-off  clothing,  to  "take 
on"  for  another  term,  having  parted  with  their 
uniforms  and  the  savings  of  several  years  at  the 
solicitation  of  courteous  strangers  they  met  along 
the  route.  Nothing  but  an  emergency  could  have 
brought  Riggs,  full  tilt,  for  he  was  getting  along 
in  years  and  loved  the  comforts  of  his  army  home. 
Emergency  it  was,  as  he  explained  to  Frazier 
instantly  on  his  arrival.  The  general  had  indu 
bitable  information  that  ranches  to  the  south  had 
long  been  buying  government  stores,  bacon,  feed, 
flour,  coffee,  etc.  The  source  of  their  supply 
could  only  be  the  warehouses  at  Worth,  and 
Marsden  was  a  "swell"  sergeant,  whose  airs  and 
affluence  had  made  him  the  object  of  suspicion. 
Those  were  the  days  when  cavalry  regiments  had 


54  ^   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

a  commissary,  but  Congress  did  away  with  the 
office,  and  Winn,  whom  an  indulgent  colonel  had 
detailed  to  that  supposedly  "soft  snap"  when 
regimental  head-quarters  were  stationed  at  Worth, 
had  been  left  there  with  his  bulky  array  of 
boxes  and  barrels  when  the  colonel  and  staff 
were  transferred  to  a  more  southern  post,  the  un 
derstanding  being  that  he  was  to  turn  over  every 
thing  to  Frazier's  new  quartermaster  as  soon  as 
that  official  should  arrive.  Frazier's  appointee, 
however,  was  a  lieutenant  from  a  distant  station. 
The  War  Department  had  not  improved  the  ap 
pointment  when  made.  Correspondence  had  been 
going  on,  and  only  within  the  week  was  notifica 
tion  received  that  the  choice  was  finally  confirmed 
and  that  Lieutenant  Trott  would  soon  arrive. 
Meantime  Winn  remained,  but  the  stores  were 
going.  Somebody  had  money  enough  to  bribe 
the  sentries  nightly  posted  at  the  storehouse  at 
the  northern  corner  of  the  big  rectangle,  and 
wagon-load  after  wagon-load  must  have  been 
driven  away.  Outwardly,  as  developed  by  the 
count  made  early  on  the  morning  following 
Riggs's  coming,  all  was  right,  but  a  veteran 
cavalry  sergeant  scoffingly  knocked  in  the  heads 
of  cask,  box,  and  barrel,  and  showed  how  bacon 
by  the  cord  had  been  replaced  by  rags  and  boul 
ders,  sugar,  coffee,  and  flour  by  bushels  of  sand, 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  55 

molasses  and  vinegar  by  branch  water,  and  tea 
and  tobacco  by  trash.  "Two  to  three  thousand 
dollars'  worth  of  rations  gone/7  said  Riggs,  at 
noon,  "and  the  devil  to  pay  if  Winn  cannot." 
Vain  the  night  ride  to  Fuller's  ranch  in  search  of 
Marsden.  That  worthy  had  long  since  feathered 
his  portable  nest,  and  on  one  of  the  quartermas 
ter's  best  horses  had  left  the  post  within  the  half- 
hour  of  Riggs's  coming,  no  man  knew  for  what 
point  after  once  he  crossed  the  ford.  Hoof -tracks 
by  the  hundred  criss-crossed  and  zigzagged  over 
the  southward  mesa.  Thick  darkness  had  settled 
down.  Fuller's  people  swore  no  signs  of  him 
had  been  seen,  and,  though  patrols  kept  on  all 
night,  poor  Winn  came  back  despairing  an  hour 
before  the  dawn  to  face  his  fate;  even»at  noon  he 
had  hardly  begun  to  realize  the  extent  of  his  over 
whelming  loss. 

"  Go  home  and  try  to  sleep,"  said  the  colonel, 
sadly,  to  the  dumb  and  stricken  man.  "  You  can 
do  no  good  here.  I'll  send  the  doctor  to  you." 

But  Winn  started  up  and  shook  the  old  fellow's 
kindly  hand.  "I  cannot  go.  My  God!  I  must 
know  the  whole  business,"  he  cried.  "I  cannot 
sleep  or  eat  a  morsel." 

"Whatever  you  do,  don't  drink,"  said  Riggs, 
in  not  unkindly  warning.  "  Go  and  see  your  wife, 
anyhow,  for  an  hour  or  so.  She  has  sent  three 


56  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

times."  But  words  were  useless.  Sympathetic 
comrades  came  and  strove  with  him  and  said 
empty  words  of  hope  or  cheer, — empty,  because 
they  knew  poor  Winn  had  not  a  soul  in  the  world 
to  whom  to  look  for  help.  Kin  to  half  a  dozen 
old  army  names,  it  helped  him  not  a  whit,  for  no 
one  of  them  was  blessed  with  means  beyond  the 
monthly  pay,  and  some  had  not  even  that  un 
mortgaged.  Twenty-five  hundred  dollars'  short 
age  already,  to  say  nothing  of  the  cash  for  recent 
sales,  and  more,  no  doubt,  to  come.  The  very 
thought  was  ruin.  Eefusing  comfort,  the  hapless 
man  sat  down  at  his  littered  desk,  stared  again  at 
the  crowded,  dusty  pigeon-holes,  and  saw  nothing, 
nothing  but  misery,  if  not  despair. 

Brayton  went  over  at  luncheon-time  and 
begged  a  word  with  Mrs.  Winn.  She  peered 
over  the  balustrade  from  the  second  story,  with 
big,  black-rimmed  eyes,  but  could  not  come  down, 
could  not  leave  baby,  who  was  fretful,  she  said. 
Oh,  why  didn't  Mr.  Winn  come  home?  What 
good  did  it  do  to  stay  over  there  and  worry? 
When  would  they  get  through?  Brayton  couldn't 
say,  but  Winn  couldn't  come, — felt  he  must  stay 
at  the  office;  but  if  Mrs.  Winn  would  have  some 
tea  and  a  bite  of  luncheon  prepared,  he,  Brayton, 
would  gladly  take  it  over.  Yet  even  this  friendly 
office  seemed  to  bring  no  solace.  Winn  barely 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  57 

sipped  the  tea  or  tasted  the  savory  broth.  Frazier 
and  Riggs  went  out  to  luncheon,  leaving  him  still 
seated  at  his  desk;  and  their  faces  were  black 
with  gloom  when  they  reached  the  colonel's  door. 
Winn's  distressing  plight,  following  so  shortly 
after  the  dire  misfortune  that  had  happened  to 
Lawrence,  would  have  saddened  the  whole  gar 
rison  and  tinged  all  table-talk  with  melancholy 
but  for  the  blessed  antidote  afforded  in  Captain 
Barclay's  sudden  and  most  unlooked-for  coming. 
And  what  a  surprise  it  was !  All  one  afternoon 
and  part  of  one  evening  had  Fort  Worth  been  tell 
ing  that  Captain  Barclay  had  refused  the  assign 
ment  to  a  regiment  and  post  where  he  must  meet 
Laura  Winn;  that  he  had  resigned  rather  than 
encounter  once  more  the  woman  who  had  played 
him  false;  that  he  was  too  wealthy  to  care  to  bury 
himself  in  this  out-of-the-way  hole  in  Texas  any 
how;  and  even  while  they  were  talking,  all  un 
heralded,  here  he  was.  The  major's  hospitable 
doors  opened  to  receive  him  within  ten  minutes 
of  his  dust-covered  advent,  and  only  by  hearsay 
all  that  night  could  the  garrison  know  of  his  pres 
ence.  One  small  sole-leather  trunk,  with  the 
travelling-bag,  rifle,  field-glasses,  canteen,  and 
lunch-box,  constituted  all  the  personal  luggage 
of  the  new  arrival.  It  could  not  even  be  said 
that  any  one  outside  of  Brooks's  had  even  seen 


58  A   TROOPER  GALAHAD. 

him,  so  coated  with  dust  were  the  contents  of  that 
old  spring  wagon  when  unloaded  at  the  colonel's 
steps;  and  many  a  woman  hastened  to  her  door 
on  the  following  morning,  attracted  thither  by 
the  announcement  that  Captain  Barclay  was  on 
the  major's  porch. 

There,  with  his  host,  he  stood  for  quite  a  while, 
the  major  pointing  out  the  landmarks  along  the 
westward  range,  and  indicating,  apparently,  other 
features  in  the  landscape.  One  or  two  officers, 
hastening  by,  raised  their  caps  or  ran  up  the 
steps  and  shook  hands  with  the  new-comer,  but 
he  was  presently  summoned  in  to  breakfast,  and 
neighbors  could  only  say  he  was  not  very  tall,  not 
very  stout,  not  very  slight,  not  very  anything. 
Captain  De  Lancy,  who  had  had  three  minutes' 
conversation,  said  he  "  seemed  pleasant,"  but  that 
was  all.  Mrs.  De  Lancy  was  confirmed  in  her 
preconceived  opinion  that  men  were  owls,  be 
cause  her  husband  was  unable  to  add  to  the  mili 
tary  descriptive  list  of  brown  eyes,  brown  hair, 
brown  beard  and  clothes,  any  of  the  particulars 
she  sought.  He  couldn't  tell  whether  Barclay 
had  fine  teeth  or  good  complexion,  what  his 
mouth  was  like,  whether  he  had  nice  hands  and 
voice.  Indeed,  he  couldn't  see  why  Mrs.  De 
Lancy  should  be  so  anxious  to  know.  Not  until 
towards  noon  was  any  reliable  particular  concern- 


A  TROOPER   GALAHAD.  59 

ing  Captain  Barclay  passed  along  the  line.  Then 
the  domestic  bulletin  dealt  out  the  fact  that  the 
millionaire  mine-owner  wore  a  flannel  shirt  and 
a  silver  watch,  which  information  was  distinctly 
disheartening. 

But  that  evening,  while  the  colonel  and  other 
officers  began  calling  at  Brooks's  to  welcome  for 
mally  the  unexpected  addition  to  the  commis 
sioned  force,  Mrs.  Brooks  was  able  to  slip  out  and 
over  to  her  crony,  Mrs.  De  Lancy,  and  in  ten 
minutes  she  had  an  audience,  married  and  single, 
that  gladdened  her  heart.  She  could  and  did  talk 
almost  uninterruptedly  for  over  an  hour.  Ar 
riving  dames  or  damsels  were  signalled  not  to  in 
terrupt,  and,  joining  the  circle,  patiently  with 
held  their  questions  until  she  paused  for  breath; 
and  then  what  every  one  seemed  to  want  to  know 
was,  had  he  said  anything  or  asked  anything  about 
Mrs.  Winn?  He  had.  He  expressed  the  utmost 
sympathy  with  poor  Mr.  Winn.  He  told  Major 
Brooks  of  a  similar  experience  that  occurred  in 
the  — d  Cavalry  only  the  year  previous,  and  how 
it  would  probably  take  the  defrauded  officer  years 
to  square  the  account.  He  most  delicately  in 
quired  as  to  the  general  health  and  well-being  of 
Mrs.  Winn,  whom  he  had  had  the  pleasure,  he 
said,  of  meeting  several  years  before;  but  more 
particularly  he  had  asked  about  Lawrence,  and 


60  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

Lawrence's  children,  and  who  was  in  ch-arge  of 
them;  it  was  evident  that  he  was  deeply  con 
cerned  about  them  and  most  anxious  to  meet  Cap 
tain  and  Mrs.  Blythe. 

"Well,  that's  one  thing  at  least  in  his  favor," 
was  the  verdict;  for  throughout  Brooks's  bat 
talion,  as  it  was  then  called,  or  squadron,  as  we 
should  call  it  to-day,  there  existed  an  indefinable 
feeling  of  antagonism  towards  this  stranger  within 
their  gates,  thus  coming  to  usurp  the  place  Ned 
Lawrence  held  in  their  hearts  and  homes,  if  no 
longer  on  their  rolls.  Some  one  slipped  out  and 
brought  in  Mrs.  Blythe,  for  whose  benefit  Mrs. 
Brooks  not  unwillingly  went  over  all  she  had  told 
about  Captain  Barclay's  queries  as  to  the  children 
and  their  benefactors;  and  that  sweet,  tender 
hearted,  motherly  woman  ought  to  have  softened 
to  him,  but  didn't.  "He  could  have  heard  it  all 
at  San  Antonio  for  the  asking,"  she  declared. 
"But  he  didn't  stop  two  days  at  San  Antonio," 
explained  Mrs.  Brooks.  "The  moment  he  heard 
that  Colonel  Eiggs  was  going  on  by  special  am 
bulance  he  begged  to  be  allowed  to  go  with  him, 
and  Riggs  couldn't  see  a  way  to  say  no,  and  later 
confessed  he  was  very  glad  he  had  said  yes." 

"Brooks,  you  were  all  growling  at  the  idea  of 
having  any  outsider,  much  less  a  doughboy,  take 
Lawrence's  place,"  were  the  bluff  old  veteran's 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  Ql 

exact  words;  "but  you  mark  what  I  say.  I  was 
rather  prejudiced  against  this  young  fellow  my 
self,  and  it  has  just  taken  this  jolt  together  from 
San  Antonio  to  satisfy  me  he  is  grit  to  the  back 
bone,  and  you  are  in  big  luck  to  get  him." 

At  least  a  dozen  men  called  at  the  major's  that 
evening  to  pay  their  respects  to  the  new  comrade. 
It  was  long  after  taps  when  the  last  one  left,  but, 
almost  to  a  man,  they  gathered  at  the  club-room 
later  to  compare  notes.  Hodge,  of  course,  bad 
called  among  the  first,  his  claim  of  intimate  or  at 
least  old  acquaintance  rendering  it  necessary. 
Barclay's  brown  eyes  certainly  lighted  at  the  sight 
of  the  face  he  had  known  in  the  far  northwest; 
he  chatted  for  a  moment  with  the  infantryman, 
and  expressed  his  pleasure  at  meeting  him  again. 
Then  Blythe  entered,  with  his  grave,  massive  face 
and  courteous  yet  reserved  manner;  and  Brooks 
spoke  of  the  fact  that  Barclay  seemed  to  shake 
hands  more  earnestly  with  him  than  with  any  of 
the  others,  and  to  look  at  him  oftener,  though 
striving  to  slight  no  one.  They  sat  there,  as  men 
will  at  such  times,  somewhat  awkwardly,  only  one 
speaking  at  once,  and  generally  the  same  one. 
Hodge,  for  instance,  had  much  to  say  and  many 
questions  to  ask  about  fellows  Ke  had  known  in 
Wyoming,  and  when  he  left  and  others  came  in, 
three  or  four  went  at  the  same  time,  having  sat 


62  4   TROOPER  GALAHAD. 

stolid  listeners,  calmly  studying  Barclay  with 
their  eyes  and  finally  saying  good-night,  and 
"  hope  to  see  you  when  you  get  settled,"  etc. 

They  were  talking  of  him  at  the  store,  and 
wondering  when  and  where  he  would  settle,  and 
whether  he  would  take  Lawrence's  quarters,  and 
what  would  then  become  of  Ada  and  little  Jim, 
who  with  old  Mammy  still  occupied  their  rooms 
there  and  had  all  the  furniture  as  poor  daddy  left 
it,  but  who  went  over  to  the  Blythes'  three  times 
a  day  to  take  their  rations  with  their  army  chums 
and  playmates,  the  little  Blythes.  "  What  a  god 
send  it  would  be  if  he  would  buy  poor  Ned's 
books  and  furniture!"  said  De  Lancy.  "It  would 
yield  enough  to  send  those  poor  babies  home." 

"Home,"  said  Blythe,  sadly:  "what  home  has 
a  child  whose  kith  and  kin  are  all  of  the  army? 
They  have  neither  home  nor  mother." 

But  no  man  made  the  faintest  comment  on 
facts  the  women  remarked  instanter,  that  Bar 
clay's  watch  was  only  silver  and  his  guard  an  in 
expensive  little  cord  or  braid  of  fine  leather,  worn 
about  his  neck;  that  his  travelling  suit  was  of 
rough  gray  mixture,  and  his  shirt  a  flannel  neg 
lige.  But  then,  as  Mrs.  De  Lancy  explained  in 
extenuation  of  their  blindness,  he  had  donned  his 
uniform  by  the  time  they  called  that  second  even 
ing,  and  it  became  him  very  well. 


CHAPTEE  V. 

A  WEEK  went  rapidly  by.  Captain  Barclay 
had  gone  on  duty,  and  Mr.  Brayton,  his  sub,  had 
not  yet  "sized  him  up."  Lieutenant  Trott,  the 
new  regimental  quartermaster,  had  arrived  by  the 
Saturday's  stage,  and  was  ready  to  receipt  to 
Lieutenant  Winn  for  all  property  he  had  to  turn 
over;  but  Winn  had  broken  down  under  his 
weight  of  woe  and  taken  to  his  bed.  From  Wash 
ington  came  tidings,  telegraphed  as  far  as  San 
Antonio,  that  Lawrence  was  slowly  mending  and 
would  soon  be  sitting  up.  Mrs.  Winn,  absorbed 
in  the  care  of  her  suffering  husband,  had  accepted 
no  invitations,  but  the  many  sympathetic  women 
who  called  to  ask  if  there  were  not  some  way  in 
which  they  could  be  of  aid  reported  her  as  look 
ing  feverish  and  far  from  well.  Some  of  them 
had  ventured  to  speak  of  the  new  arrival,  and, 
though  her  ears  were  evidently  open,  her  lips 
were  closed.  That  she  was  willing,  if  not  eager, 
to  hear  anything  they  had  to  say  or  tell  about 
Captain  Barclay  was  all  very  well  as  far  as  it 
went,  but  what  some  of  her  visitors  most  desired 

was  to  hear  what  she  had  to  say  about  him  \   as 

63 


64  ^   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

she  would  say  nothing,  one  or  two  had  resorted  to 
a  little  delicate  questioning  in  the  hope  of  draw 
ing  her  out.  Mrs.  Faulkner,  a  young  matron  of 
her  own  age  and  previous  social  standing,  an  army 
girl  like  herself,  and  for  some  time  her  one  inti 
mate  friend  at  Worth,  went  so  far  as  to  ask,  "  You 
used  to  know  him  very  well,  did  you  not?"  and 
was  checkmated  by  the  answer,  "  Not  well  enough 
to  talk  about/7  which  answer  Mrs.  Faulkner  pon 
dered  over  and  considered  deliberately  and  inex 
cusably  rude.  With  the  kindest  feeling  for  her 
in  the  world,  as  all  the  women  avowed,  and  no 
animosity  whatever  towards  Barclay  over  and  be 
yond  that  feeling  on  poor  Colonel  Lawrence's  ac 
count,  there  was  the  liveliest  interest  at  Worth 
as  regarded  Mrs.  Winn  and  Captain  Barclay  in 
seeing  what  they  would  do;  and,  to  the  disap 
pointment  of  all  Fort  Worth,  they  had  done 
nothing. 

Barclay  promptly  returned  the  calls  of  the  offi 
cers  who  had  called  upon  him,  and  had  done  all 
proper  homage  to  the  wives  of  those  who  were 
possessed  of  such  blessings,  but  there  were  still 
certain  quarters  where  his  face  or  his  card  had  not 
been  seen:  at  Captain  Cram's,  for  instance,  be 
cause  that  warrior  was  on  scout  and  couldn't  call, 
ditto  his  lieutenant;  at  one  or  two  of  the  new 
and  unpolished  pillars  of  the  temple,  because  they 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  (55 

had  not  known  enough  or  had  been  too  shy  to 
call;  and  at  Winn's,  because  that  officer  was  ill 
of  a  fever  and  could  not  call.  There  was  another 
set  of  quarters  in  which  he  had  not  yet  set  foot, 
— Ned  Lawrence's;  and  that  was  the  house  most 
people  expected  him  to  visit  first. 

Nor  did  he  remain  at  Brooks's.  The  major's 
house  was  big,  but  so  was  his  household.  "You 
have  a  vacant  room  here,  Mr.  Brayton,"  he  said, 
the  third  day  after  his  arrival,  as  he  dropped  in 
at  his  subaltern's.  "  It  may  be  a  month  before  I 
get  shaken  down  into  place.  I  dislike  to  disturb 
women  and  children,  and  so  have  decided  to  ask 
you  to  let  me  move  my  cot  and  trunk  in  here 
awhile  and  to  propose  my  name  at  the  mess." 
And  Brayton,  blushing,  at  the  realization  of  the 
fact  that  the  furniture  in  the  room  referred  to 
consisted  solely  of  some  chairs,  a  square  pine 
table  covered  with  a  cavalry  blanket,  with  a  cigar- 
box  half  full  of  smoking-tobacco,  another  half 
full  of  white  beans,  and  a  pack  of  cards  for  its 
sole  ornaments,  nevertheless  bravely  ushered  his 
new  captain  into  the  bower,  and  Barclay  looked 
neither  surprised  nor  satirical  at  the  sight.  "  We 
sometimes  play  a  mild  game  of  draw  here,  sir," 
said  downright  Brayton,  "which  accounts  for  the 
appearance  of  things;  but  my  striker  can  clean 
it  up  in  ten  minutes,  and  you  are  most  welcome." 


QQ  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

"It  won't  put  you  out  in  any  way?"  asked  Bar 
clay,  without  the  comment  of  an  uplifted  eye 
brow  on  the  evidence  adduced. 

"  Not  so  much  as  poker,  if  it  does  at  all,"  said 
Brayton,  promptly.  He  was  determined  his  cap 
tain  should  know  the  extent  of  his  frailties  at  the 
start. 

Barclay  smiled  quietly  and  turned  to  the  boy 
with  liking  in  his  eye.  "I'm  hardly  ten  years 
your  senior,  Brayton,"  said  he,  "  and  so  shall  not 
preach,  but  I  believe  we  can  put  that  room  to  a 
little  better  use." 

The  next  day  he  took  his  seat  at  the  bachelors' 
mess,  where  a  dozen  officers  were  congregated,  all 
of  them  but  two  his  juniors  in  rank.  The  side 
board  was  lavishly  decked  with  the  indispensables 
of  that  benighted  day.  The  old-timers  and  the 
new  took  their  anteprandial  cocktail  or  toddy, 
and  hospitably  invited  Barclay  to  join.  Barclay 
smiled  gratefully,  but  said  he  had  "  never  yet  got 
in  the  way  of  it,  somehow,"  nor  did  he  more  than 
sip  at  the  Bordeaux  which  the  presiding  officer 
ordered  served  in  honor  of  the  occasion.  The 
mess  was  rather  silent.  Most  men  seemed  de 
sirous  of  listening  to  Barclay  when  he  spoke  at 
all.  They  knew  every  twist  and  turn  of  each 
other's  mode  of  speech  by  that  time,  and  could 
repeat  verbatim  every  story  in  the  combination. 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  gf 

Barclay  might  have  something  new;  but  if  he  did 
he  had  no  chance.  Captain  Follansbee  took  and 
kept  the  floor  from  first  to  last.  He  was  airing 
his  views  on  the  subject  of  consolidation,  reor 
ganization,  and  purification  as  practised  at  the 
War  Department,  a  topic  which  the  others  con 
sidered  inexcusable,  not  so  much  from  the  fact 
that  it  must  be  most  unpalatable  to  Captain  Bar 
clay,  a  beneficiary  of  the  business,  as  it  turned 
out,  as  because  Follansbee  had  worn  them  all  out 
with  it  weeks  before. 

And,  to  everybody's  surprise,  so  far  from  seem 
ing  annoyed  or  embarrassed  or  bored,  Barclay  led 
him  on  from  point  to  point,  and,  even  after  coffee 
was  served,  sat  an  apparently  absorbed  listener, 
for  by  that  time  Follansbee  had  absorbed  most  of 
the  claret  and  was  dilating  on  the  matter  with 
especial  reference  to  the  case  of  Colonel  Law 
rence.  Later  that  evening  Barclay  spent  an  hour 
at  the  Blythes',  and  two  days  after  he  and  Bray- 
ton  dined  there. 

It  was  a  seven-o'clock  dinner.  The  doctor  and 
his  wife,  Major  and  Mrs.  Brooks,  Miss  Frazier 
and  Miss  Amanda  Frazier,  were  the  other  guests. 
Those  were  the  days  when  officers  of  all  grades 
wore  epaulets  when  in  full  uniform,  but,  except 
in  one  or  two  swell  messes,  full  dress  was  not  con 
sidered  requisite  for  either  dinner  or  hops.  The 


(Jg  ^   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

men  wore  the  uniform  frock-coat  with  shoulder- 
straps;  some  few  privileged  characters  even 
dared  to  appear  in  a  sack-coat  with  white  tie. 
Such  a  thing  as  the  evening  dress  of  civil  life  was 
unknown  at  a  military  post,  and  unowned  in  the 
fighting  force  of  the  army,  outside,  perhaps,  of 
the  artillery.  The  doctor  was  a  privileged  char 
acter,  a  man  who  said  what  he  thought  and  did 
what  he  thought  right;  and  when  Mrs.  Blythe, 
glancing  out  of  her  parlor  window,  saw  their 
favored  friend  and  medical  adviser  coming  along 
the  walk,  his  hands  deep  in  his  trousers-pockets 
and  himself  in  a  fit  of  abstraction  and  a  new  sack- 
coat,  while  the  partner  of  his  joys  and  sorrows 
chatted  briskly  with  the  Frazier  girls,  Mrs.  Blythe 
called  up-stairs  to  her  massive  liege  lord,  "Wear 
your  blouse,  dear;  the  doctor  has  on  his'7;  where 
upon  Blythe  slipped  out  of  the  uniform  coat  of 
formal  cut  and  into  the  easy  sack,  and  came  trot 
ting  down  the  creaking  stair  in  time  to  welcome 
his  guests.  Brooks,  Barclay,  and  BrayEon,  who 
came  later,  were  in  the  prescribed  regulation 
dress,  whereat  Dr.  Collabone  exclaimed,  "  Hullo ! 
Now  that's  what  I  ought  to  have  done,  if  I'd  had 
as  much  regard  for  conventionality  as  I  have  for 
health.  Gentlemen,  do  you  know  you  simply 
invite  an  apoplectic  seizure  by  sitting  down  to 
dinner  in  a  tightly  buttoned  uniform  coat?  It 


A.   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  gg 

is  barbarous.     There  ought  to  be  a  regulation 
against  it." 

It  was  observed  that  while  the  doctor  included 
all  three  of  the  cavalrymen  in  his  remarks  he 
looked  at  and  apparently  addressed  only  one, 
Captain  Barclay,  whose  uniform  coat  was  brand- 
new,  very  handsomely  cut,  its  buttons  and  shoul 
der-straps  of  the  finest  make  and  finish,  whereas 
the  doctor's  were  tarnished,  if  not  actually 
shabby.  Brooks  frowned,  and  Brayton  looked 
embarrassed  lest  Barclay  should  take  it  amiss;  but 
that  officer  remained  smilingly  interested,  and  in 
nowise  troubled.  The  Frazier  girls  giggled,  and 
Miss  Amanda  was  prompt  to  assert  that  for  her 
part  she  loved  to  see  the  officers  wear  the  proper 
uniform,  and  she  wasn't  alarmed  about  apoplexy; 
whereupon  Collabone  smiled  benignly  and  said, 
"What  did  I  tell  you  about  the  danger  of  tight 
lacing?"  Amanda  couldn't  bear  the  doctor.  Her 
elder  and  primmer  sister  only  half  liked  him. 
Many  of  the  women  thought  him  brusque  and 
rude,  but  officers  and  men  and  mothers  of  families 
swore  by  him,  and  children  adored  him.  A  child 
less  man  himself,  he  seemed  to  keep  open  house 
for  the  offspring  of  his  comrades.  They  swarmed 
about  his  quarters  at  all  hours  of  the  day.  They 
invaded  his  parlor,  overflowed  his  dining-room, 
and  ruled  his  kitchen. 


YO  ^   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

A  kindly  and  placid  soul  was  Mrs.  Collabone, 
a  woman  who  had  few  cares  or  perplexities,  and 
these  she  promptly  turned  over  to  her  broad- 
minded,  broad-shouldered  liege  for  final  disposi 
tion,  as  serenely  confident  of  their  speedy  dissipa 
tion  as  she  was  of  the  prompt  conquest  of  any  and 
all  the  manifold  ills  to  which  childish  flesh  is 
heir  by  that  practitioner's  infallible  remedies. 
Children  ran  loose  in  those  days  in  Texas;  and 
so  they  ought  to,  said  Collabone.  "  Savage  races 
are  the  only  scientific  rearers,"  he  maintained. 
"  Boys  or  girls,  they  should  be  burdened  with  but 
a  single  garment,  or  less,  from  the  time  they're 
born  until  they're  eight  or  ten,  and  meantime 
they  should  be  made  to  eat,  sleep,  and  live  out 
doors."  He  preached  for  children  regularity  in 
matters  of  diet,  prescribed  four  light  meals  a  day, 
practised  heterodoxy,  and  distributed  bread  and 
milk,  bread  and  syrup,  bread  and  jam,  cookies, 
corn  dodgers,  and  molasses  candy,  morning,  noon, 
and  night.  Aunt  Purlina,  the  fat  and  jocund 
goddess  of  the  Collabones'  kitchen,  had  standing 
orders  on  such  subjects,  and  many  a  time  had  the 
post  surgeon  to  wait  for  his  own  refreshments  be 
cause  "the  kids"  had  possession  of  the  premises. 
There  was  never  a  worry  along  officers'  row  when 
children  strayed  from  home.  "Oh,  they're  over 
at  the  doctor's,"  was  the  soothing  response  to  all 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  ^1 

queries.  The  doctor's  big  yard  was  the  garrison 
play-ground;  for,  when  a  soulless,  heartless,  child 
less,  wifeless  post  commander,  Frazier's  prede 
cessor,  had  dared  to  prohibit  the  use  of  the  parade- 
ground  for  croquet,  hop-scotch,  marbles,  or  "  Tom, 
Tom  Pull-away,"  it  was  Collabone  who  rigged  up 
swings  and  giant  strides  at  his  own  expense  and 
without  the  aid  of  the  post  quartermaster,  and 
sent  away  to  New  Orleans  for  croquet  sets  for  the 
exclusive  use  of  the  youngsters.  It  nettled  in 
expressibly  the  field  officer  commanding.  He 
took  it  as  a  rebuke  from  his  junior,  and  took  it 
out  in  a  course  of  nagging  and  persecution  at  the 
doctor's  expense,  that  roused  the  energies  of  the 
entire  post.  Frazier  was  sent  from  Concho  to 
supersede  the  objectionable  lieutenant-colonel, 
who  thereupon  declared  his  intention  of  moving 
the  doctor  out  and  taking  his  quarters;  but  a 
courier  galloped  all  the  way  from  Worth  to  the 
camp  at  San  Patricio,  whither  the  department 
commander  had  gone  a-hunting,  and  another  got 
back  in  the  nick  of  time  with  orders  for  the  de 
vastating  officer  to  move  to  the  cantonment  on 
the  Pecos,  the  worst  hole  in  all  Texas,  as  reported 
by  the  department  inspector.  The  children  had 
won  the  day. 

At  the  very  moment  when  the  party  took  their 
seats  at  Blythe's,  the  children  of  that  establish- 


72  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

ment  and  their  friends  the  Lawrences  were  hold 
ing  high  carnival  at  the  doctor's,  Aunt  Purlina 
and  the  colored  maid  vying  with  each  other  in 
efforts  to  stuff  them  to  repletion.  Over  this  up 
roarious  feast  presided  the  tall  slip  of  a  damsel 
with  whom  poor  Ned  had  parted  so  mournfully 
when  he  went  away  in  February.  Ada's  was  the 
only  face  in  all  the  merry  party  that  seemed  to 
have  known  a  trace  of  sorrow.  Her  big,  dark, 
mournful  eyes  and  shaggy  hair,  her  sallow  face 
and  shabby  frock,  twice  let  down  and  still 
"skimpy,"  told  a  pathetic  story.  Thirteen  years 
of  age,  the  child  had  already  seen  much  of  anxiety 
and  trouble, — much,  indeed,  beyond  the  ken  of 
many  an  elder;  and  the  week  going  by  brought 
hour  after  hour  of  nervous  wear  and  tear,  the 
cause  of  which  only  one  woman  knew,  and  strove 
in  vain  to  banish.  Ada  shrank  with  actual  dread 
and  repulsion  from  the  thought  of  having  to  meet 
the  man  who  had  come  to  take  her  loved  father's 
place. 

Thrice  had  Barclay  spoken  to  Mrs.  Blythe  of  a 
desire  to  see  the  children  of  Colonel  Lawrence; 
now  he  felt  confident  that  he  knew  the  cause  of 
her  evasion,  and  pressed  no  more.  But  all  through 
dinner,  even  while  speaking  in  the  low,  somewhat 
measured  tones  habitual  to  him,  he  lost  no  talk 
in  which  the  children  were  mentioned;  and  at 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  73 

Blythe's  they  were  never  forgotten.     It  was  not 
long  before  he  discovered  that  the  Blythes  and 
Lawrences — the  young  people — were  at  the  doc 
tor's,  Ada  presiding.     Indeed,  with  much  gusto, 
almost  as  soon  as  soup  was  served,  Collabone  be 
gan  telling  of  her  matronly,  motherly  ways.    Half 
an  hour  later  a  messenger  came  to  the  door  and 
asked  if  Dr.  Collabone  would  please  step  over  and 
see  Mrs.  De  Lancy  a  moment.    "  Tell  her  I'll  be 
there  in  just  one  hour/7  said  the  doctor,  looking 
at  his  watch.    Then  he  added,  for  the  benefit  of 
the  party  present,  "  There's  nothing  in  the  world 
the  matter  with  Mrs.  De  Lancy,  and  by  that  time 
she'll  have  forgotten  she  sent  for  me."    Ten  min 
utes  later  came  another  call.     It  was  the  Colla- 
bones'  domestic  this  time.     "Little  Jimmy's  cut 
his  hand,  and  Miss  Ada  can't  stop  the  bleeding." 
"  Say  I'll  come  instantly,"  said  he,  springing  from 
the  table  and  making  his  excuses  to  the  lady  of 
the  house. 

Barclay's  face  shone  with  instant  sympathy 
and  interest.  Dessert  was  nearly  over.  He 
turned  to  the  motherly  woman  whose  own  gentle 
face  betrayed  her  anxiety. 

"  Will  you  think  me  very  rude?"  he  said. 
"You  know  I  do  not  smoke,  and  I  do  want  so 
much  to  meet  those  children.  I  feel  that  Ada 
purposely  shuns  me,  and  this  is  an  opportunity 


74  A-   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

not  to  be  lost.  May  I  be  excused?  I  will  soon 
return."  Mrs.  Blythe's  eyes  were  eloquent  as  she 
bade  him  go. 

Three  minutes  later  he  softly  entered  the  doc 
tor's  sitting-room.  There  in  a  big  easy-chair  sat 
a  tall,  sallow-faced,  tumbled-haired  girl,  holding 
in  her  arms  a  burly  little  fellow  whose  frightened 
sobbings  she  had  at  last  controlled,  and  who,  with 
only  an  occasional  whimper,  was  now  submitting 
to  the  doctor's  examination  and  deriving  much 
comfort  from  his  professional  and  reassuring  man 
ner. 

"Why,  this  is  no  cut  at  all,  Jimmy,  my  boy. 
The  reason  you  bled  so  much  is  that  you  are  so 
uncommonly  healthy  and  full  of  blood.  This 
won't  keep  you  out  of  mischief  six  hours.  Hold 
the  basin  steady,  Purlina.  Kick  all  you  want  to, 
Jimmy.  Don't  you  dare  to  laugh,  Kittie  Blythe. 
Well,  if  here  isn't  Captain  Barclay,  too,  come  in 
to  see  you!  Here  is  the  little  wounded  soldier, 
captain.  You  had  your  arm  in  a  sling  six  long 
months,  didn't  you?  The  Sioux  did  that  for  him, 
Jimmy,  and  you've  only  got  to  be  done  up  in  a 
bandage  till  to-morrow  night.  Let  Captain  Bar 
clay  hold  you?  Indeed  I  won't.  He  doesn't 
.know  how  to  hold  little  boys — like  Ada.  He's 
got  no  little  boys,  nor  big  Ada  either.  Bet  your 
boots  he  wishes  he  had,  Jimmy."  Thus  the  doc- 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  f5 

tor  chatted  as  lie  bathed  and  bandaged  the  pudgy 
little  fist,  while  Jimmy  lay,  half  relieved  at  the 
rapid  termination  to  his  woes,  half  resentful  they 
should  be  declared  so  trifling,  and,  with  eyes 
much  swollen  with  weeping,  critically  studied  the 
new  captain's  appearance  and  gave  token  of  modi 
fied  approval.  But  Ada's  white  lids  and  long 
dark  lashes  were  never  once  uplifted. 

Presently  Collabone  pronounced  everything 
doing  finely,  and  said  he'd  go  and  see  Mrs.  De 
Lancy.  "  You  tell  them  there's  nothing  much  the 
matter,  will  youf '  he  said  to  Barclay. 

"I  will — when  I  get  there,"  was  the  smiling 
reply;  "but  I'm  going  to  tell  this  little  fellow  a 
story  first  about  a  Sioux  baby  boy  I  knew  in  Wy 
oming,  and  his  playmate,  a  baby  bear."  And, 
with  wondering,  wide-open  eyes  upon  him,  Bar 
clay  seated  himself  close  to  Ada's  chair,  while  the 
doctor  stole  silently  away. 

Half  an  hour  later,  when  he  returned,  a  circle 
of  absorbed  listeners  was  gazing  into  Barclay's 
face.  Ada  only  sat  apart,  and  little  Jimmy's 
curly  head  was  pillowed  on  the  story-teller's 
breast. 


CHAPTEK  VI. 

^  days  passed.  Barclay  had  become  an  in 
stitution  at  Fort  Worth,  yet  opinions  were  as  di 
vided  and  talk  of  him  as  constant  as  before  he 
came.  First  and  foremost,  he  had  met  Mrs. 
Winn,  and  his  demeanor  on  that  presumably  try 
ing  occasion  had  proved  a  distinct  disappointment. 
Winn  was  recovering  health,  if  not  spirits.  A 
stage-load  of  officers  and  ladies  had  come  from 
the  cantonment  to  spend  forty-eight  hours,  and  a 
big  dance  was  prescribed  for  their  benefit.  Mrs. 
Winn  danced  divinely,  and  never  looked  so  well 
as  when  with  a  suitable  partner  on  a  suitable 
floor.  Those  were  the  days  when  we  raved  over 
the  "Mabel,"  the  "Guards,"  the  "Maude,"  and 
the  "Hilda"  waltzes,  Godfrey's  melodious  crea 
tions, — when  the  galop  and  trois  temps  were 
going  out,  and  we  "  Boston  dipped"  to  every  tune 
from  Pat  Malloy  to  Five  O'Clock  in  the  Morn 
ing,  and  the  Worth  orchestra  was  a  good  one 
when  the  first  violin  wasn't  drunk,  a  condition 
which  had  to  be  provided  against  with  assiduous 
care.  The  party  arrived  during  one  of  his  lucid 

76 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  77 

intervals,  and  the  adjutant  promptly  placed  the 
artist  under  bonds  to  shun  the  cup  until  after  the 
guests  had  gone;    then  he  could  fill  up  to  his 
heart's  content  and  no  fear  of  a  fine.     Winn 
couldn't  attend,  but  Laura  was  looking  wan  and 
sallow.    She  needed  air  and  exercise,  and  her  hus 
band  urged  her  to  accept  Mr.  Brayton's  escort 
and  go;  so  did  Collabone;  so  did  her  own  inclina 
tion.    Superbly  gowned  and  coiffed  and  otherwise 
decorated,  she  went,  and  her  entrance  was  the 
sensation  of  the  evening.     It  was  long  after  ten 
when  she  appeared.     The  hop  was  in  full  blast; 
the  big  room,   gayly  decorated,   was  throbbing 
with  the  rhythmic  movement  of  the  closing  figure 
of  the  Lancers.     Almost  everybody  was  on  the 
floor,  for  energetic  were  our  dancers  in  those  by 
gone  days.     Just  as  the  music  came  to  full  stop, 
and  with  joyous  laughter  and  merry  words  of 
parting  the  sets  broke  up,  the  women  and  girls, 
middle-aged  or  young  (they  never  grow  old  in  the 
army),  clinging  to  their  partners'  arms,  fanning, 
possibly,  their  flushed  faces,  were  escorted  to  their 
seats,  and  the  floor  like  magic  was  cleared  for  the 
coming  waltz.     The  group  at  the  flag-draped  en 
trance  parted  right  and  left,  making  way  for  a 
young  officer  in  cavalry  uniform  at  whom  nobody 
so  much  as  glanced,  because  of  the  tall  and  ra 
diant  woman  at  his  side,  on  whom  all  eyes  were 


78  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

centred.  "Look  at  Laura  Winn,"  was  the  whis 
per  that  flew  from  womanly  lip  to  lip.  "  Isn't  she 
simply  superb?"  "Look  at  Mrs.  Winn,"  mut 
tered  many  a  man,  his  eyes  lighting  at  the  sight. 
"Isn't  she  just  stunning?" 

And  then  people  began  to  hunt  for  Barclay. 

He  was  standing  at  the  moment  talking  quietly 
with  Mrs.  Frazier,  who  was  making  much  of 
the  young  captain  now,  and  was  accused  of 
having  hopes  of  him  on  account  of  her  eldest 
darling,  who  had  dined  by  his  side  three  different 
times  at  three  different  houses  during  the  week, 
and  was  therefore  said  to  be  "  receiving  consider 
able  attention."  But  the  hush  of  laughter  and 
miscellaneous  chatter  almost  instantly  attracted 
the  matron's  attention.  She  glanced  at  the  door, 
gasped  involuntarily,  and  then  as  suddenly  turned 
and  narrowly  watched  him,  for  he  too  noted  the 
lull  in  conversation,  and,  slowly  facing  the  door 
way,  saw  before  him  not  ten  paces  away  the 
woman  who  was  to  have  been  his  wife,  gazing 
straight  at  him  as  though  challenging  him  to  look 
and  be  blinded,  as  blinded  by  her  beauty  he  had 
been  before.  She  was  only  a  young,  immature, 
untaught  girl  then,  ignorant  of  her  powers.  Now 
the  soft  bloom  was  gone,  but  in  its  place  there 
lurked  among  the  tiny  threads  of  lines  or  wrinkles 
just  forming  at  the  corners  of  her  brilliant  eyes, 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  79 

and  in  the  witching  curves  about  her  mobile,  sen 
sitive,  exquisite  lips,  a  charm  beside  which  her 
virgin  graces  were  cold  and  formal.     She  had 
been  what  all  men  called  a  wonderfully  pretty 
girl.     She  was  now  what  many  women  termed  a 
dangerously  beautiful  woman,  and  she  knew  it 
well.    When  we  had  no  one  especially  selected  to 
"  receive' '  in  those  days,  it  was  a  sort  of  garrison 
custom  for  everybody  to  present  himself  or  her 
self  to  the  wife  of  the  commanding  officer,  in  case 
that  official  was  so  provided.     Mrs.  Frazier  was 
seated  in  plain  view  of  the  queenly  creature  who, 
having  advanced  a  few  steps  beyond  the  portals 
and  the  loiterers  there  assembled,  now  halted,  and 
like  some  finished  actress  swept  the  room  with  her 
radiant  eyes,  as  though  compelling  all  men,  all 
women,  to  yield  to  her  their  attention  and  regard, 
and  then,  smiling  brightly,  beamingly  (dutiful 
Brayton  guided  by  the  pressure  of  her  daintily 
gloved  hand),  moved  with  almost  royal  grace  and 
deliberation  to  where  Mrs.  Frazier  sat  in  state; 
and  the  first  lady  of  the  garrison  rose  to  greet  her. 
Unsuitable  as  is  the  full  uniform  for  cavalry 
purposes  to-day,  it  was  worse  in  1870,  when  our 
shoulders  were  decked  with  wabbly  epaulets  and 
our  waists  were  draped  with  a  silken  sash  that  few 
men  wore  properly.    But  whatever  might  be  said 
of  Sir  Galahad's  shortcomings  as  a  boon  com- 


80  4    TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

panion,  or  of  his  severely  simple  and  economical 
mode  of  life,  there  was  no  manifestation  of  parsi 
mony  in  his  attire.  No  man  in  the  room  was  so 
well  uniformed,  or  wore  the  garb  of  his  profession 
with  better  grace.  He  who  came  in  a  flannel 
shirt  and  a  rough  gray  suit,  with  a  silver  watch 
and  leather  watch-chain,  appeared  this  night  in 
uniform  of  faultless  cut  and  fit,  with  brand-new 
glittering  captain's  epaulets,  while  his  sash  was  of 
the  costliest  silk  net,  of  a  brighter  red  than  gen 
erally  worn, — most  officers  appearing  in  a  stringy 
affair  that  age  and  weather  had  turned  to  dingy 
purple.  On  his  left  breast  Barclay  wore  the 
badge  in  gold  and  enamel  of  a  famous  fighting 
division  in  a  gallant  corps;  and  such  badges  were 
rare  in  the  days  whereof  I  write.  Moreover, 
though  neither  a  tall  man  nor  a  stalwart,  Captain 
Barclay  was  erect,  wiry,  and  well  proportioned, 
and  his  head  and  face  were  well  worth  the  second 
look  every  one  had  been  giving  this  night.  "  The 
Twelfth  have  been  swearing  like  pirates  at  having 
another  doughboy  saddled  on  'em,"  chuckled  Cap 
tain  Perkins,  himself  a  doughboy.  "Begad,  the 
Twelfth  has  no  better  picture  of  the  officer  and 
the  gentleman  than  this  importation  from  the 
Foot."  But  no  one  spoke  with  the  thought  of 
being  heard  as  Laura  Winn  finished  her  greeting 
to  Mrs.  Frazier.  Every  man  and  woman  was  in- 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  81 

tent  only  on  what  was  coming  next,  although 
many  strove  to  speak,  or  to  appear  to  listen,  to 
their  neighbors.  Charlotte  Frazier  actually  rose 
from  her  seat  and  stepped  out  into  the  room  that 
she  might  have  a  better  view. 

And  Barclay  would  not  have  been  the  obser 
vant  man  he  had  already  shown  himself  to  be  had 
he  not  known  it.  His  color  was  a  bit  high  for  one 
whose  face  was  ordinarily  so  pale,  but  he  stood 
calmly  erect,  with  an  expression  of  pleased  con 
templation  in  his  fine  eyes;  waiting  for  Mrs.  Winn 
to  finish  the  somewhat  hurried  yet  lavish  words 
that  she  addressed  to  Mrs.  Frazier;  then  she 
turned  effusively  upon  him. 

"Captain  Barclay!"  she  exclaimed.  "How 
very  good  to  see  you  here!  and  how  glad  we  all 
are  to  welcome  you  to  the  Twelfth!  Mr.  Winn 
and  I  have  been  in  despair  because  his  illness  has 
kept  him  a  prisoner.  Indeed,  I  doubt  if  I  should 
have  left  him  at  all  to-night  but  for  his  positive 
orders — and  the  doctor's;  then,  of  course,  I  much 
wanted  to  see  you — too." 

She  had  begun  confidently,  even  masterfully. 
She  looked  him  with  determined  effort  straight  in 
the  face  at  the  start,  but  her  confidence  flitted 
before  a  dozen  words  were  said.  Her  voice 
faltered  before  she  had  half  finished,  for  Barclay's 
eyes  frankly,  even  smilingly,  met  hers,  and  with 

6 


g2  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

ease  and  dignity  and  courteous  interest  all  com 
mingled  he  had  bowed  slightly  over  her  hand, 
lowered  it  after  a  brief,  by  no  means  lingering, 
pressure,  and  stood,  merely  mentioning  her  name, 
"Mrs.  Winn,"  and,  as  was  rather  a  way  of  his, 
letting  the  other  party  do  all  the  talking.  It  was 
a  godsend  to  Laura  Winn  that  the  waltz  music 
began  at  the  next  instant,  for  his  nonchalance  was 
something  utterly  unexpected.  Oh,  how  dared 
he  look  so  calmly,  indifferently,  forgetfully,  al 
most  unrecognizingly,  into  her  eyes,  and  stand 
there  so  placidly,  when  her  heart  was  flutter 
ing  wildly  with  nervous  excitement,  her  words 
coming  in  gasps ! 

"Oh,  Mr.  Brayton,  how  heavenly!"  she  ex 
claimed.  "Don't  let  us  lose  an  instant  of  that 
waltz."  Over  his  glittering  shoulder  she  beamed 
in  parting  a  bewitching  smile,  levelled  all  at  Bar 
clay,  and  glided  away,  a  floating  cloud  of  filmy 
drapery,  a  vision  of  flashing  eyes,  of  flushing 
cheeks,  of  dazzling  white  teeth  gleaming  between 
the  parted  rose-leaves  of  her  mouth,  of  snowy 
shoulders  and  shapely  arms,  of  peeping,  pointed, 
satin-shod  feet,  the  handsomest  creature  in  all 
that  crowded  room,  and  the  most  dismally  un 
happy.  She  had  met  him  in  the  witnessing  pres 
ence  of  all  Fort  Worth,  and  all  the  garrison  saw 
that  she  had  sustained  a  crushing  defeat.  She 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  83 

who  was  to  have  been  his  wife  and  had  duped 
him,  she  who  had  looked  to  subjugate  him  once 
more,  was  duped  in  turn,  the  victim  of  her  own 
vanity. 

"And  to  think,"  said  Mrs.  De  Lancy,  "she 
only  changed  her  half-mourning  a  month  ago, 
and  now — in  full  ball  costume!" 

Fort  Worth  didn't  stop  talking  of  that  episode 
for  all  of  another  week,  and  that,  too,  in  the  face 
of  other  interesting  matter. 

To  begin  with,  Sergeant  Marsden  had  disap 
peared  as  though  from  the  face  of  the  earth. 
Whither  he  had  fled  no  man  could  say.  No  set 
tlement  worth  the  name  had  not  been  searched, 
no  ranch  remained  unvisited.  Fuller's  people 
would  not  shield  the  fugitive,  for  Fuller,  as  the 
post  sutler,  suffered  equally  with  Uncle  Sam  from 
the  sergeant's  depredations.  Settlers  and  ranch 
people  who  bought  of  the  latter  cut  into  the  busi 
ness  of  the  former,  and  Fuller  would  most  gladly 
have  had  him  "rounded  up"  long  weeks  ago;  but 
Marsden  and  his  few  confederates  in  the  garrison 
had  admirably  covered  their  tracks,  and  the  indi 
cations  of  declining  trade  that  had  roused  the  sut 
ler's  suspicions  led  to  no  arousal  of  vigilance 
within  the  sentry  line:  wherefore  Fuller's  heart 
was  hardened  against  the  post  commander  and  the 
erstwhile  commissary,  and  this,  too,  at  a  time 


g4  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

when  the  latter  stood  in  sorest  need  of  financial 
help.  The  extent  of  poor  Winn's  losses  and  re 
sponsibility  was  now  known :  so  far  as  his  commis 
sary  accounts  were  concerned,  not  a  cent  less  than 
three  thousand  dollars  would  cover  them.  The 
quartermaster  was  out  a  horse  and  equipments, 
and  several  confiding  enlisted  men  and  laun 
dresses  were  defrauded  of  money  loaned  the  dash 
ing  sergeant.  Uncle  Sam,  be  it  known,  has  sum 
mary  methods  as  a  bill-collector.  He  simply  stops 
his  servant's  pay  until  the  amount  due  is  fully 
met.  Winn's  total  pay  and  emoluments  as  com 
puted  in  '70  and  ?71  would  barely  serve  in  two 
years  to  square  himself  with  his  exacting  Uncle. 
Meantime,  what  were  wife  and  baby  and  other 
claimants  to  do?  What  was  he  to  live  on,  and 
so  insure  payment  of  which  his  death  would  de 
stroy  all  possibility?  Crushed  as  Winn  was,  there 
were  men  and  women  who  roundly  scored  his 
wife  for  appearing  superbly  dressed  at  the  first 
ball  graced  by  the  presence  of  her  discarded 
lover.  Yet  had  she  stayed  away,  their  disappoint 
ment  would  have  exceeded  this  disapprobation. 
Collabone  said  his  patient  suffered  from  a  low 
fever,  which  the  unprofessional  found  difficult  to 
understand,  in  view  of  Mrs.  Winn's  diagnosis, 
which  declared  it  alarmingly  high.  Certain  it  is 
that  he  kept  his  room  until  four  days  after  the 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  §5 

evening  of  the  ball;  then  he  had  to  turn  out  and 
face  the  music,  for  orders  came  from  "  San  An- 
tone." 

Then,  too,  came  another  invoice  of  interesting 
matter  to  Fort  Worth,  and  it  must  be  remem 
bered  that,  in  the  narrow  and  restricted  life  of  the 
far  frontier,  interest  existed  in  matters  that  seem 
too  trivial  for  mention  in  the  broader  spheres  of 
the  metropolis.  The  invoice  was  an  actual  and 
material  fact,  and  consisted  of  a  big  wagon-load 
of  household  goods  consigned  to  Captain  Barclay, 
accompanied  by  a  dignified  Ethiopian  and  two 
very  knowing-looking  horses  that  had  many  of 
the  points  of  thoroughbreds.  The  quartermaster's 
train  under  proper  escort  had  made  the  long  pull 
from  Department  Head-Quarters,  and  all  unan 
nounced  came  these  chattels  to  the  new  troop 
leader.  The  very  next  morning,  which  was  a 
Sunday,  when  Brooks's  four  troops  formed  line 
for  inspection  in  the  old-fashioned  full  dress  of 
the  cavalry,  the  men  in  shell  jackets  and  plumed 
felt  hats,  the  officers  in  long-skirted,  clerical-look 
ing  frock-coats,  black  ostrich  plumes,  gold  epau 
lets,  and  crimson  sashes,  there  rode  at  the  head  of 
Lawrence's  old  troop  a  new  captain,  whose  horse 
and  equipments  became  the  centre  of  critical  and 
admiring  eyes  the  moment  it  was  possible  for  his 
comrades  to  leave  their  commands  and  gather 


86  &   TROOPER  GALAHAD. 

about  him.  Very  few  officers  in  those  days  pos 
sessed  anything  better  than  the  regulation  troop 
bridle  and  raw-hide  McClellan  saddle,  which  with 
their  folded  blankets  satisfied  all  the  modest  re 
quirements  of  the  frontier.  The  light-battery- 
men  indulged  in  a  little  more  style  and  had 
picturesque  red  blankets  to  help  out,  but  even 
they  were  put  in  the  shade,  and  came  trotting 
over  during  the  rest  after  Brooks  had  made  the 
formal  ride  round  to  look  at  the  general  appear 
ance  of  his  command.  All  hands  seemed  to 
gather  in  approbation  about  Barclay's  charger. 
The  horse  himself  was  a  bright,  blooded  bay,  with 
jet-black,  waving  mane,  tail,  and  forelock,  superb 
head,  shoulders  and  haunches,  and  nimble  legs, 
all  handsomely  set  off  by  a  glistening  bridle  with 
double  rein,  martingale,  glossy  breast-strap  and 
polished  bits,  curb-chain,  bosses,  rings,  and  heart, 
with  the  regimental  number  in  silver  on  the 
bosses  and  at  the  corner  of  the  handsome  shab- 
raque  of  dark  blue  cloth,  patent  leather,  and  the 
yellow  edging  and  trimming  of  the  cavalry. 
"The  only  outfit  of  the  kind  at  Worth/'  said 
Brooks,  emphatically.  "And  yet,  gentlemen,"  he 
continued,  seeing  latent  criticism  in  the  eyes  of 
certain  of  the  circle,  "  it's  all  strictly  in  accordance 
with  regulations,  and  just  as  we  used  to  have  it 
in  the  old  days  before  the  war.  I  wish  we  all  had 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  g? 

the  same  now.    I  haven't  seen  a  Grimsley  outfit 
since  '61." 

"Grimsley  it  is/'  said  the  veteran  captain  of 
the  light  battery.  "Mine  went  to  Kichmond  in 
'61  with  what  we  didn't  save  of  our  battery  at 
First  Bull  Eun." 

"  Grimsley  it  is,"  said  his  junior  subaltern.  "  If 
Sam  Waring  could  only  see  that,  he'd  turn  green 
with  envy  to-day  and  borrow  it  to-morrow." 
Whereat  there  went  up  a  laugh,  for  Waring  was 
a  man  of  mark  in  the  queer  old  days  of  the  army. 

Then  of  course  every  one  wanted  to  know,  as 
the  cavalcade  rode  from  the  drill-ground  up  to 
the  post,  where  Barclay  had  bought  his  horses, 
and  some  inquired  how  much  tney  cost;  and  to 
all  queries  of  the  kind  Barclay  answered,  with 
perfect  good  humor,  that  he  had  ordered  the 
equipments  of  the  old  firm  of  Grimsley,  still 
doing  business  in  St.  Louis,  as  it  did  in  the  days 
when  Jefferson  Barracks  and  Leavenworth  and 
Kiley  were  famous  cavalry  stations  in  the  '50s; 
the  horses  he  had  bought  of  a  family  connection 
in  Kentucky,  and  had  given  seven  hundred  dol 
lars  for  the  pair. 

"See  here,  Hodge,"  growled  the  old  stagers  as 
they  clustered  about  the  club-room,  sipping  cool 
ing  drinks  after  the  warm  morning  exercise, 
"  what's  all  this  you've  been  telling  us  about  Bar- 


88  A    TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

clay's  inexpensive,  economical,  and  skimpy  ways? 
He's  got  the  outfit  of  a  British  field-marshal,  by 
gad!" 

But  Hodge  was  too  much  concerned  and  con 
founded  to  speak.  "It's  more'n  I  can  explain," 
he  said.  "Why,  he  wouldn't  spend  ten  cents  in 
"Wyoming." 

And  yet,  had  Hodge  only  known  it,  Barclay's 
infantry  outfit  was  of  just  as  fine  finish  and  ma 
terial,  as  far  as  it  went,  as  these  much  more  costly 
and  elaborate  appointments  of  the  mounted  ser 
vice.  Everything  connected  with  the  dress  or 
equipments  of  his  profession  Barclay,  who  would 
spend  nothing  for  frivolities,  ordered  of  the  best 
furnishers,  and  no  man  ever  appeared  on  duty  in 
uniform  more  precise  or  equipments  of  better 
make. 

Of  course  the  club-room  was  not  the  only  place 
where  Barclay's  really  bewildering  appearance 
was  discussed.  Among  the  officers  there  were 
many  who  growled  and  criticised.  It  was  all 
right  to  have  handsome  horses,  if  he  could  afford 
it:  any  cavalryman  would  try  to  do  that,  was  the 
verdict.  "But  all  these  other  jimcracks,  they're 
simply  moonshine!"  And  yet,  as  pointed  out  by 
Major  Brooks,  it  was  all  strictly  according  to 
regulation.  "Damn  the  regulations!"  said  Cap 
tain  Follansbee;  "they're  too  expensive  for  me." 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  89 

And,  take  it  all  in  all,  the  feeling  of  the  mess  was 
rather  against  than  with  Barclay;  he  had  no  busi 
ness  wearing  better  clothes  or  using  better  horse- 
furniture  than  did  his  fellows.  Follansbee  went 
so  far  as  to  tackle  Ely  the  on  the  subject  and  in 
voke  his  sympathy,  but  that  massive  old  dragoon 
disappointed  him.  "Barclay's  right,"  said  he; 
"  and  if  the  rules  were  enforced  we'd  all  have  to 
get  them." 

"  But  they  cost  so  much,"  said  Follansbee. 
"Not  half  what  you  spend  in  whiskey  in  half 
the  time  it  would  take  to  get  them  here,"  was  the 
unfeeling  rejoinder. 

Mrs.  Frazier  and  Mrs.  De  Lancy,  however, 
wished  the  captain  had  brought  an  easy  open  car 
riage  with  driving  horses  instead  of  saddlers.  It 
would  have  been  far  more  useful,  said  those  level 
headed  women.  And  so  it  might  have  been — to 
them. 

But  in  the  midst  of  all  the  talk  and  discussion 
came  tidings  that  amazed  Fort  Worth.  Ned 
Lawrence  was  actually  on  his  way  back  to  Texas, 
— would  be  with  his  precious  babies  within  the 
fortnight, — would  reoccupy  his  old  quarters  for 
a  while  at  least  as  the  guest  of  the  usurper,  for 
they  had  been  formally  chosen  by  Captain  Bar 
clay,  to  the  frantic  wrath  of  Ada  when  first  she 
heard  the  news, — wrath  that  sobbed  itself  out  in 


90  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

the  lap  of  her  loving  friend  Mrs.  Blythe,  as  the 
motherless  girl  listened  with  astonished  ears  to 
the  explanation. 

"So  far  from  raging  at  him,  Ada,  you  should 
be  thankful  that  your  dear  father  and  you  and 
Jimmy  have  found  so  thoughtful  and  generous  a 
friend  as  Captain  Barclay.  If  he  had  not  chosen 
your  house,  Captain  Bronson  would  have  done  so, 
and  you  would  have  had  to  go.  As  it  is,  nothing 
of  yours  or  your  father's  will  be  disturbed." 

And  sorely  tempted  was  the  enthusiastic,  ten 
der-hearted  woman  to  tell  much  more  that,  but 
for  his  prohibition,  she  would  have  told;  and  yet 
she  did  not  begin  to  know  all. 


CHAPTEK  VII. 

WITHIN  the  fortnight  came  poor  !N"ed  Lawrence 
back  to  Worth,  and  men  who  rode  far  out  on  the 
Crockett  trail  to  meet  the  stage  marvelled  at  the 
change  three  months  had  made  in  him.  He  had 
grown  ten  years  older,  and  was  wrinkled  and  gray. 
.Winn  was  of  the  party,  and  Winn,  who  a  month 
gone  by  was  looking  haggard,  nervous,  miserable, 
now  rode  buoyantly,  with  almost  hopeful  eyes 
and  certainly  better  color  than  he  had  had  for 
months,  despite  the  fact  that  he  had  lost  both 
flesh  and  color  during  his  illness.  Something  had 
happened  to  lighten  his  load  of  dread  and  care. 
Something  must  have  happened  to  enable  Law 
rence  to  take  that  long,  long  journey  back  to 
Texas.  Fort  Worth  indulged  in  all  manner  of 
theories  as  to  where  the  money  was  coming  from, 
and  Barclay,  of  course,  was  suspected,  even  inter 
rogated.  The  frankest  man  in  some  respects  that 
ever  lived,  Captain  Galbraith  Barclay  was  reti 
cent  as  a  clam  when  he  saw  fit  to  keep  silent,  and 
men  found  it  useless  to  question  or  women  to  hint. 
As  for  Winn,  he  had  but  one  classmate  at  the 

post,  Brayton,  who  had  never  been  one  of  his  in- 

91 


92  ^    TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

timates  at  the  Point,  and,  being  rather,  as  was 
said,  of  the  "  high  and  mighty/'  reserved  and  dis 
tant  sort  with  the  subalterns  he  found  at  Worth 
on  joining  three  winters  before,  Winn  had  never 
been  popular.  Lawrence  was  his  one  intimate, 
despite  the  disparity  in  years.  And  so  no  man 
ventured  to  ask  by  what  means  he  expected  to 
meet  the  demands  thus  made  upon  him.  The 
board  of  survey  ordered  to  determine  the  amount 
of  the  loss  and  fix  the  responsibility  had  no  alter 
native.  Winn  and  his  few  friends  made  a  hard 
fight,  setting  forth  the  facts  that  the  count  had 
been  made  every  month  as  required  by  orders  and 
regulations,  and  that  except  by  bursting  open 
every  bale,  box,  and  barrel,  and  sifting  over  the 
contents,  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  detect 
Marsden's  methods.  On  some  things  the  board 
was  disposed  to  dare  regulations  and  raps  on  the 
knuckles,  and  to  let  Winn  off  on  several  others; 
but  what  was  the  use?  "the  proceedings  would 
only  be  sent  back  for  reconsideration,"  said  their 
president;  and  as  it  transpired  that  Winn  had 
not  exercised  due  vigilance,  but  had  trusted 
almost  entirely  to  his  sergeant,  they  decided  to 
cut  the  Gordian  knot  by  saddling  the  young  offi 
cer  with  the  entire  responsibility,  which  meant, 
sooner  or  later,  a  stoppage  of  nearly  three  thou 
sand  dollars  of  his  pay. 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  93 

It  is  a  sad  yet  time-honored  commentary  at  the 
expense  of  human  nature  that  the  contemplation 
of  the  misfortunes  of  our  fellow-men  is  not  always 
a  source  of  unalloyed  sorrow.  There  was  genuine 
and  general  sympathy  for  Lawrence,  because  he 
had  been  poor  and  pinched  and  humbled  for 
years,  had  worn  shabby  clothes,  and  had  sought 
all  possible  field  duty,  where  "deeds,  not  duds/' 
as  a  garrison  wit  expressed  it,  seemed  to  make  the 
man.  He  had  frankly  spoken  of  his  straits  and 
worries  to  such  as  spoke  to  him  in  friendship,  and 
this,  with  his  deep  and  tender  love  for  his  chil 
dren,  and  his  capital  record  as  a  scout  leader,  had 
won  over  to  him  all  the  men  who  at  one  time  were 
envious  and  jealous  and  had  cherished  the  lines 
man's  prejudice  against  the  fellow  whose  duties 
for  years  had  kept  him  on  the  staff.  The  women 
were  all  with  him,  and  that  meant  far  more  than 
may  seem  possible  outside  the  army.  There  was 
many  a  gentle  dame  in  the  old  days  of  adobe 
barracks  who  could  be  an  Artemisia  in  the  cause 
of  a  friend. 

~No  one  knew  just  what  object  Ned  Lawrence 
had  in  coming  back  to  Dixie.  Every  one  knew  he 
had  indignantly  refused  the  second  lieutenancy, 
despite  the  fact  that  one  or  two  men  with  war 
service  and  rank  almost  equal  to  his  own  had 
meekly  accepted  the  grudgingly  tendered  com- 


94  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

mission,  and  others  were  said  to  be  about  to  fol 
low  suit, — all,  presumably,  with  the  hope  that 
their  friends  and  representatives  in  Congress  as 
sembled  would  speedily  legislate  them  back  where 
they  thought  they  belonged.  No  one  knew  where 
Ned  Lawrence  had  made  a  raise  of  money,  but 
raise  he  certainly  had  made,  for,  to  Blythe's  in 
dignation,  there  came  a  draft  of  one  hundred  dol 
lars  to  cover  the  expenses,  he  said,  of  his  children 
and  old  Mammy  and  to  pay  the  latter  some  of 
her  wages.  The  balance  he  would  settle,  he 
wrote,  when  he  arrived.  Blythe  would  far  rather 
he  had  waited  until  his  accounts  were  adjusted; 
then,  if  Lawrence  were  in  funds,  Blythe  could 
have  found  no  fault  with  this  insistence  on  at 
least  partially  defraying  the  expenses  incurred  in 
providing  for  the  little  household.  Lawrence 
hoped  to  have  his  accounts  adjusted,  his  letter 
said,  and  he  had  reason  to  believe,  from  what 
friends  in  Washington  told  him,  that  he  would 
find  his  successor  willing  to  receipt  to  him  for 
missing  items,  trusting  to  luck  and  the  flotsam 
and  jetsam  of  the  frontier  to  replace  them  in 
course  of  time.  Lawrence,  indeed,  was  curious 
now  to  meet  and  know  Captain  Barclay,  for  he 
had  been  told  many  things  that  had  gone  far  to 
remove  the  feeling  of  unreasoning  antagonism  he 
had  felt  at  first. 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  95 

Only  one  thing  did  he  say  to  Ely  the  that  threw 
light  on  his  future  plans.  "I  am  dreadfully 
sorry,"  he  wrote,  "to  hear  such  ill  tidings  about 
Harry  Winn.  I  was  always  fearful  there  was 
something  wrong  about  that  fellow  Marsden,  and 
sometimes  strove  to  caution  him, — I,  who  could 
not  see  the  beam  in  my  own  eye, — I,  with  two 
scoundrels  in  my  orderly-room,  trying  to  warn 
him  against  the  one  in  his!  Winn  is  a  proud, 
sensitive,  self-centred  sort  of  fellow,  whom  wealth 
perhaps  might  have  made  popular.  He  is  no  bet 
ter  manager  than  I.  He  has  a  wife  who  could 
never  help  him  to  live  within  his  means,  as  poor 
Kitty  certainly  tried  to  do  with  me."  (Oh2  the 
blessed  touch  of  Time!  Oh,  the  sweet  absolution 
of  Death!  Kitty  was  an  angel  now,  and  her  ways 
and  means  were  buried  with  all  that  was  mortal 
of  her.)  "And,  worse  than  all,  poor  Hal  has  no 
one,  I  fear,  to  help  him  now,  as — I  write  it  with 
blinded  eyes,  dear  Blythe — it  has  pleased  God  I 
should  find  in  many  friends  in  the  days  of  my 
sore  adversity, — you  and  your  blessed  wife,  and 
the  colonel,  and  Brooks, — even  rough  old  Fol- 
lansbee  and  our  dilettante  De  Lancy,  and  that  in 
imitable  Collabone.  My  heart  overflows,  and  my 
eyes,  too,  at  thought  of  all  you  and  they  have 
done  and  said  and  written  for  me  and  mine.  And 
here,  too,  where  in  my  bitterness  I  thought  I  was 


96  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

deserted  of  all,  here  is  gallant  old  Front  de  Boeuf 
(you  remember  how  we  swore  by  him  in  the  Val 
ley  after  Davy  Russell  was  killed).  He  has 
housed  and  fed  and  nursed  and  cared  for  me  like 
a  brother,  and  Senator  Howe  and  even  old  Catnip 
—God  bless  him! — have  worked  hard  for  me; 
and,  though  my  soldier  days  seem  over  for  the 
time  at  least,  my  stubborn  spirit  has  had  to  sur 
render  to  such  counsellors  and  friends  as  they 
have  been  to  me.  They  all  say  Congress  will 
surely  put  me  back  next  winter,  and  meantime 
'Buffstick'  says  I'm  to  have  a  salaried  position  in 
a  big  company  with  which  he  is  associated,  and  to 
begin  work  as  soon  as  my  health  is  re-established 
and  my  accounts  straightened  out." 

"Who  is  Buffstick?"  queried  Mrs.  Blythe,  at 
this  juncture. 

"Buffstick?  Oh,  that  was  our  pet  name  for 
Colonel  Dalton,  of  the  — th  Massachusetts,  Law 
rence's  friend  and  host  in  Washington;  a  mag 
nificent  fellow,  dear,  with  a  head  and  chest  that 
made  some  lover  of  Scott  liken  him  to  Front  de 
Boeuf, — out  of  i  Ivanhoe,'  you  know.  But  he  was 
a  stickler  for  neatness  in  dress  and  equipments, 
and  his  regiment  called  him  Buffstick,  and  grew 
to  love  him  all  the  same.  He  commanded  a  bri 
gade  after  Cedar  Creek,  and  now, — just  think  of 
it! — he's  a  capitalist." 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  97 

"Does  lie  know  Captain  Barclay,  do  you 
think?'7  she  asked,  after  a  reflective  pause. 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know.  Probably  not,"  was 
the  answer.  "  They  never  served  in  the  same  part 
of  the  army.  Why  do  you  ask?" 

"  Oh,  I  was  wishing — I  couldn't  help  thinking 
— how  much  Mr.  Winn  needed  some  good  friend, 
too." 

"  Winn  and  Lawrence  are  very  different  men," 
said  Blythe,  gravely.  "Lawrence  {  has  made 
friends,  while  poor  Winn  has  only  enemies,  I 
fear,  and,  really,  none  worse  than  himself." 

Mrs.  Blythe  sighed  as  she  turned  away.  It  was 
much  as  her  husband  said.  The  Winns  had  come 
to  the  regiment  after  a  round  of  receptions,  din 
ners,  and  dances  in  their  honor  all  the  way  from 
Washington  to  Worth,  and  had  "started  with  a 
splurge,"  as  the  chroniclers  declared.  Laura's 
gowns  and  airs  and  graces  won  her  no  end  of 
prominence,  but  very  few  friends.  Winn's 
"  high  and  mighty"  ways,  so  they  were  termed  by 
all  the  garrison,  in  which  at  that  time  only  two 
or  three  West  Pointers  could  be  found,  had  alien 
ated  all  the  subs,  most  of  the  seniors,  and  many 
of  the  women.  Their  extravagance  during  the 
first  year  of  service,  the  explanations  and  excuses 
tendered  by  Laura  in  the  next,  and  Harry's  in 
creasing  moodiness  and  distraction,  served  only 

7 


98  ^   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

to  widen  the  breach.  Men  and  women  both,  who 
began  by  envying,  turned  to  openly  decrying. 
Cutting  things  were  said  to  Laura,  whose  men 
dacities  provoked  them.  Sneering  or  at  least  sug 
gestive  things  were  often  said  in  presence  of 
Winn,  if  not  exactly  to  him;  for  there  was  one 
quality  about  the  swell  the  garrison  had  to  re 
spect, — his  cheerful  and  entire  readiness  to  fight 
on  very  small  provocation,  and  those  were  the 
days  when  the  tenets  of  the  "code"  were  not 
totally  forgotten,  and  there  still  remained  in  the 
army  a  sentiment  in  favor  of  the  doctrine  of  per 
sonal  responsibility  for  disparaging  words.  There 
would  be  fewer  courts-martial  to-day  were  there 
more  of  it  left.  But  when  women  heard  the 
stories  about  the  big  bill  at  the  sutler's  and  others 
that  came  by  mail,  and  made  little  icy  comments 
about  some  people  being  able  to  afford  much  more 
than  they  could,  Laura  laughed  off  the  allusions 
to  their  superior  style  of  living  by  stories  of  an 
indulgent  papa,  until  papa's  death  left  her  with 
out  further  resource  from  that  quarter.  Then  she 
set  afloat  a  fabrication  about  a  doting  aunt  of 
Harry's  who  had  no  children  of  her  own, — an 
amiable  old  widow  who  was  to  leave  him  all  her 
money.  He  did  have  an  aunt  of  that  description, 
but  she  didn't  have  the  money,  and  there  were 
men  who  were  malicious  enough  to  refer  in 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  99 

Winn's  presence  to  their  wish  that  they  had 
wealthy  fathers-in-law  or  doting  dowager  aunts, 
thereby  giving  some  other  fellow  a  chance  to  say, 
"  And  so  does  Fuller,  no  doubt." 

Indeed,  so  practically  friendless  were  the 
Winns  that  among  nine  out  of  ten  families  along 
officers'  row  there  was  a  feeling  of  lively  curiosity 
to  note  the  effect  of  this  supposably  crushing  blow 
on  the  unhappy  pair,  and  a  consequent  sentiment, 
only  partially  veiled  in  many  cases,  of  keen  dis 
appointment  when  the  news  flew  around  the  gar 
rison  that  Mr.  Winn  had  announced  his  readiness 
to  meet  the  demand  in  full. 

"Why,  it  can't  be  true,"  said  many  a  woman. 
"  I'll  believe  it  when  I  see  the  money,"  said  many 
a  man.  "Do  you  suppose — he  could  have  ac 
cepted  it  from — Captain  Barclay?"  asked,  in 
strictest  confidence,  Mrs.  De  Lancy  of  Laura's 
erstwhile  intimate,  Mrs.  Faulkner. 

"Not  Harry  Winn,  probably,"  answered  Mrs. 
Faulkner,  in  confidence  equally  inviolable,  "but 
and  the  pause  that  followed  was  sugges 
tive.  Follansbee  and  Bellows  bolted  down  to  the 
sutler's  with  the  surprising  news,  wondering  if 
Fuller  could  have  been  ass  enough  to  advance 
the  money.  There  was  a  time  when  he  would 
have  done  so,  perhaps,  for  he  was  one  of  the  first 
to  be  enthralled  by  young  Mrs.  Winn's  grace  and 


A.   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

beauty,  and  lavished  presents  upon  her — and 
upon  Winn,  of  course — for  a  month,  until  Winn 
put  a  stop  to  the  presents  and  Mrs.  Fuller  came 
post-haste  back  from  San  Antonio  and  put  a  stop 
to  other  manifestations.  But  Fuller  had  long 
since  become  estranged  from  the  Winns, — the 
presentation  of  his  bill  at  inopportune  times 
having  later  widened  the  apparent  breach.  His 
jaw  fell  and  his  mouth  opened  wide  when  he 
heard  the  news,  for  Fuller  had  begun  to  believe 
that  he  would  never  get  his  money,  and  resented 
it  that  Uncle  Sam  should  be  luckier. 

"Send  up  another  'bill  rendered'  by  Ikey  to 
Mr.  Winn  this  afternoon/'  he  bade  his  clerk,  as 
the  investigators  departed  to  follow  other  clues. 
Fuller  had  gone  down  into  his  pockets,  unbe 
known  to  the  post,  and  had  actually  pressed  on 
Lawrence  a  loan  of  three  hundred  dollars,  and 
bade  him  come  for  more  wThen  that  was  gone,  but 
not  a  cent  would  he  put  up  for  Harry  Winn,— 
not  he;  "the  damned  supercilious  snob,"  was 
what  Fuller  now  called  him,  not  so  much  because 
he  thought  him  a  snob  or  supercilious  or  even  de 
serving  of  damnation,  as  because  he  had  allowed 
himself  to  be  robbed  of  three  thousand  dollars' 
worth  of  goods  that  might  otherwise  have  been 
purchased  of  him,  Fuller,  for  double  or  treble  the 
money.  No,  plainly,  Fuller  was  not  the  angel 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  }()1 

that  had  come  to  the  rescue'*o4  Winn,  not  could 
Follansbee  or  Bellows  02  \tiae  V^'t'C'f;  ;^6  jf  eUows 
find  out  who  had.  l^he  mystery  of  Gilgal  was 
outdone.  Even  Frazier  and  Brooks  did  not  know, 
and  when  some  one,  possibly  Mrs.  Frazier,  sug 
gested  to  the  colonel  that  as  the  commanding  offi 
cer  he  really  ought  to  know,  the  colonel  did  send 
for  his  new  quartermaster  and  say  to  him,  "Mr. 
Trott,  as  you  are  to  receipt  to  Mr.  Winn  for  the 
money  value  of  his  shortage,  it  would  be  well  to 
be  very  circumspect.  He  probably  cannot  have 
that  much  in  currency  here.  How  does  he  pro 
pose  to  pay  it?" 

"I  don't  know,  sir,"  said  the  man  of  business, 
promptly.  "  He  says  he  will  be  ready  to  cover  the 
entire  amount  on  or  before  the  20th  of  May.  I 
didn't  like  to  ask  him  where  it  was  to  come  from." 

Neither  did  Frazier,  despite  no  little  prodding 
at  home.  Only  one  man  ventured  to  speak  of  it 
to  "Winn,  and,  the  resultant  conversation  having 
been  variously  and  exaggeratively  reported,  the 
truth  should  here  be  told.  It  was  at  the  club- 
room,  which,  for  the  first  time  in  weeks,  Mr. 
Winn  entered.  He  asked  for  Major  Brooks,  and, 
finding  him  absent,  turned  to  go  out  with  no 
more  than  a  nod  to  the  party  at  the  poker-table. 
That  party  was  made  up  mainly  of  the  class  that 
was  numerous  in  the  army  in  those  days  and  is 


102  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

as  rare  as  an  Indian  fight  now.  The  least  re- 
sppiaslBje  among. tfheui.  at  the  moment  was  Lieu 
tenant  Bralligan,  ex-corporal  of  dragoons,  wno 
could  no  more  have  passed  the  examination  ex 
acted  of  candidates  to-day  than  a  cat  could  squeeze 
through  a  carbine.  "Hwat  d'ye  warrnt  of  the 
meejor,  Winn?"  he  shouted.  "Sure  ye've  got 
permission  to  ride  out  wid  us  to  meet  Lawrence." 

Winn  vouchsafed  no  answer.  Bralligan  and 
he  were  things  apart,  a  reproach  to  each  other's 
eyes,  and  the  evil  blood  in  the  Irishman,  inflamed 
already  by  whiskey,  boiled  over  at  the  slight. 
"It's  Barclay  ye're  looking  for,  not  Brooks!"  he 
shouted,  in  tempestuous  wrath.  "Faith,  if  ye 
want  anything  out  o?  the  Quaker,  let  yer  wife  do 
the— 

Instantly  a  brawny  hand,  that  of  Captain  Fol- 
lansbee,  was  sprawled  over  the  broad,  leering 
mouth.  Instantly  there  was  a  crash  of  chair-legs 
hastily  moved,  of  grinding  boot-heels  as  men 
sprang  to  their  feet,  of  poker-chips  flying  to  the 
floor, — a  sound  of  oaths  and  furious  struggles,  for 
two  of  the  party,  with  the  attendant,  had  hurled 
themselves  on  the  half-drunken  lieutenant  and 
were  throttling  him  to  silence,  while  Captains 
Bronson  and  Fellows  sprang  to  head  off  Winn, 
who  with  blazing  eyes  and  clinched  fists  came 
bounding  back  into  the  room. 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  }()3 

"What  did  that  blackguard  say?"  he  de 
manded.  "I  did  not  catch  the  words." 

"  Nothing,  nothing,  Winn,  that  you  should  no 
tice,"  implored  Bronson.  "He's  drunk.  He 
doesn't  know  what  he  is  saying.  He's  crazed. 
No,  sir,"  insisted  Bronson,  sternly,  as  Winn  strove 
to  pass  him.  "If  you  do  not  instantly  withdraw 
I  shall  place  you  under  arrest.  Be  sure  that  this 
poor  devil  shall  make  all  reparation  when  he's 
sober  enough  to  realize  what  has  happened.  Go 
at  once. — You  go  with  him,  Fellows." 

And  so  between  them  they  got  Winn  away, 
and  others  soused  Bralligan  with  acequia  water 
and  locked  him  up  in  his  room  and  hacl  him 
solemnly  sober  by  afternoon  stables,  while,  vastly 
to  their  relief,  Winn  arith  two  or  three  cavaliers 
rode  away  at  three  o'clock  to  meet  Ned  Lawrence 
somewhere  afar  out  on  the  Crockett  trail. 
Greatly  did  Follansbee  and  Fellows  congratulate 
Bronson,  and  Bronson  them,  on  the  fact  that  they 
had  happened  to  be  looking  on  at  the  game  when 
Winn  happened  in  and  Bralligan  broke  out;  for 
thereby  they  had  stopped  what  might  have  been 
a  most  tremendous  row.  "All  of  which  mustn't 
be  known  to  a  soul,"  said  they. 

But  Bralligan's  voice  was  big  and  deep.  It  was 
one  of  the  causes  of  his  unhallowed  preferment  in 
the  days  when  second  lieutenancies  were  showered 


104  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

on  the  rank  and  file  the  first  year  of  the  war. 
Bralligan's  taunting  words,  only  partially  audible 
to  Winn  as  he  issued  from  the  front  of  the  build 
ing,  were  distinctly  heard  by  domestics  lying  in 
wait  for  a  chance  to  borrow  of  the  steward  and 
pick  up  gossip  at  the  back.  By  stables  that  even 
ing  the  story  was  being  told  high  and  low  all 
over  the  post;  even  the  children  heard  with  eager 
yet  uncomprehending  ears;  and  so  it  happened 
that  just  as  the  drums  of  the  infantry  were  sound 
ing  first  call  for  retreat  parade,  and  the  women 
folk  were  beginning  to  muster  on  the  porches,  and 
the  warriors  of  the  Foot  along  the  opposite  side 
at  the  barracks,  and  as  Captain  Barclay,  a  light 
rattan  stick  in  his  hand,  came  strolling  back  from 
stables,  Lieutenant  Brayton  at  his  side,  little  Jim 
Lawrence  made  a  dash  from  a  group  of  children, 
and,  in  the  full  hearing  of  several  officers  and 
half  a  dozen  women,  a  shrill,  eager,  childish  voice 
piped  out  the  fatal  words, — 

"Uncle  Gal— Uncle  Gal— what  did  Mr.  Bwal- 
ligan  mean  by  telling  Mr.  Winn  to  send  his  wife 
to  you  for  money?" 

Laura  Winn  herself  was  on  the  nearest  piazza 
at  the  moment,  stunningly  handsome,  and  posing 
for  a  bow  from  her  next-door  neighbors  as  they 
came  by.  She  and  every  other  woman  there  dis 
tinctly  heard  the  words  and  marked  the  effect. 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  1Q5 

Sir  Galahad's  face  flushed  crimson.  He  caught 
his  little  friend  up  in  his  arms  and  held  him  close 
to  his  burning  cheek.  "Hush,  Jimmy  boy.  He 
meant  nothing,  and  soldiers  never  repeat  such 
nonsense.  Kun  to  sister  Ada  and  help  her  get 
everything  ready  for  papa's  coming.  Think, 
Jimmy,  he'll  be  here  by  tattoo."  And  with  a 
parting  hug  he  set  the  youngster  down  at  his  door 
step  and  started  him  on  his  way.  Then,  courteously 
raising  his  cap  to  the  gathering  on  the  nearest 
porch,  and  noting,  as  did  they,  that  Mrs.  Winn 
had  disappeared  within  her  hall,  Barclay  quickly 
entered  his  own  portal,  and  nabbed  Brayton  as 
he  was  making  a  palpable  "sneak"  for  the  rear 
door.  The  youngster  found  escape  impossible. 
Will  he,  nill  he,  the  boy  told  the  story  as  it  had 
been  told  to  him,  Barclay  standing  looking 
straight  into  his  eyes,  as  though  reading  his  very 
soul,  yet  never  saying  a  word  beyond  the  original, 
"  You  heard  what  Jimmy  said.  It  is  another  in 
stance  of  'out  of  the  mouths  of  babes  and  suck 
lings,'  Brayton.  Now,  tell  me  exactly  what  you 
know." 

It  was  a  warm  May  evening.  A  hot  south- 
wester  had  been  blowing  from  the  broad  valley  of 
the  Rio  Bravo,  and  the  few  men  in  the  club-room 
at  nine  o'clock  were  demanding  cooling  drinks. 
Bralligan  was  there,  looking  somewhat  solemn 


106  A   TROOPER  GALAHAD. 

and  sheepish.  He  knew  that  nothing  but  the 
presence  of  senior  officers  had  prevented  a  serious 
fracas  as  the  result  of  his  asinine  bray  that  morn 
ing,  but,  now  that  Winn  was  out  of  the  way  and 
the  matter  in  the  hands  of  his  captain,  he  had  no 
dread  of  the  thrashing  he  deserved,  and  was  dis 
posed  to  an  exhibition  of  bravado.  A  drink  or 
two  added  to  his  truculence,  as  well  as  to  his  de 
sire  to  resume  the  game  interrupted  that  morning. 
There  were  always  in  those  days  a  few  reliable 
gamblers  at  the  big  frontier  posts,  and  presently 
Bralligan,  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  was  contemplating 
a  sizable  pile  of  chips  and  bantering  a  burly  cap 
tain  to  "  see  his  raise,"  when  suddenly  he  became 
aware  of  a  distracted  look  in  the  eyes  of  the 
group  about  the  table,  and,  glancing  towards  the 
door,  his  own  blood-shot  orbs  lighted  upon  the 
trim  figure  of  Captain  Barclay,  standing  calmly 
surveying  the  party, — Barclay,  who  never 
smoked,  drank,  or  played  cards,  and  who  was  re 
ported  to  have  started  a  movement  for  prayer- 
meetings  among  the  enlisted  men.  His  very  pres 
ence  in  that  atmosphere  was  ominous,  especially 
as  the  gaze  of  his  usually  soft  brown  eyes  was 
fixed  on  Bralligan.  One  or  two  men  said,  "  Good- 
evening,  captain,"  in  an  embarrassed  way,  but 
the  Irish  subaltern  only  stared,  the  half-grin  on 
his  freckled  face  giving  place  to  an  uneasy  leer. 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

On  a  bench  to  the  left  of  the  entrance  stood  a 
huge  water-cooler,  with  gourds  and  glasses  by  its 
side.  Underneath  the  spigot  was  a  big  wooden 
pail,  two-thirds  full  of  drippings  and  rinsings. 
Without  a  word,  the  new-comer  stepped  quietly 
within  the  room,  picked  up  the  bucket,  and, 
striding  straight  to  the  table  before  Bralligan 
could  spring  to  his  feet,  deftly  inverted  the  vessel 
over  the  Irishman's  astonished  head,  deluging 
him  with  discarded  water  and  smashing  the  rim 
well  down  on  his  unprotected  shoulders.  An  in 
stant  more,  and  Bralligan  sent  the  bucket  whirl 
ing  at  his  assailant's  head,  which  it  missed  by  a 
yard,  then,  all  dripping  as  he  was,  followed  it  in 
a  furious  charge.  Sir  Galahad  "side-clipped" 
with  the  ease  and  nonchalance  of  long  but  un 
suspected  practice,  and  let  fly  a  white  fist  which 
found  lodgement  with  stunning  crash  straight 
under  the  Irishman's  ear,  felling  him  like  an  ox. 


CHAPTEK  VIII. 

AND  so  Ned  Lawrence  got  back  to  Worth  to 
find  it  far  livelier  than  when  he  left  it.  The 
stage  with  its  joyous  escort  had  come  trundling 
in  just  before  tattoo,  and  first  and  foremost  the 
returning  wanderer  was  driven  to  his  own  door 
way  and  left  for  half  an  hour  with  Ada  and 
Jimmy — the  one  sobbing  with  joy,  the  other 
laughing  with  delight — on  the  father's  knees. 
Then  Mrs.  Blythe  stole  in  to  bid  them  to  the 
waiting  supper,  and,  pending  Lawrence's  reap 
pearance  somewhere  along  the  line,  the  officers 
gathered  in  low-voiced  groups  discussing  the 
startling  event  of  the  evening.  Bralligan,  raging 
for  the  blood  of  the  double-dashed,  triple-ad jec- 
tived  hound  who  had  assaulted  him,  had  been 
lugged  home  by  two  or  three  of  his  kind,  con 
soled  by  Captain  Mullane  with  the  assurance  that 
he'd  see  that  the  preacher  gave  him  full  satisfac 
tion  in  the  morning,  for,  with  native  love  of  a 
ruction,  Mullane  stood  ready  to  bear  the  sub 
altern's  challenge,  even  though  his  better  nature 
told  him  the  ducking  was  richly  deserved:  with 
Irish  honor  in  question,  Mullane  was  for  fight. 
108 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

Frazier  and  Brooks,  of  course,  said  the  seniors 
present,  must  not  be  allowed  official  knowledge 
of  what  had  taken  place,  though  in  those  be 
nighted  days  of  magnificent  distances  from  the 
centre  of  civilization  and  the  exploring  grounds 
of  reporters  of  the  press,  many  a  stirring  row  was 
settled  without  its  ever  being  heard  of  beyond  the 
limits  of  the  garrison  in  which  it  occurred.  Cap 
tain  Barclay,  contenting  himself  with  the  one 
blow,  despite  an  unchristian  impulse  to  follow  it 
up  with  a  kick  at  the  sprawling  figure,  had  stood 
calmly  by  when  Bralligan's  associates  lifted  him, 
half  stunned,  to  his  feet,  then,  addressing  himself 
to  Mullane,  with  just  the  least  tremor  in  his  voice 
and  twitching  to  his  muscles,  remarked,  "Of 
course  you  know  what  led  to  this,  sir.  If  your 
lieutenant  desires  to  follow  it  up,  you  can  find 
me  at  my  quarters."  Then,  looking  very  de 
liberately  around  upon  the  little  circle  of  flushed 
or  pallid  faces, — there  were  only  five  officers 
present, — he  slowly  turned,  walked  away,  and 
shut  himself  in  his  room. 

A  light  was  still  burning  there  when  Brayton 
tiptoed  in  at  half-past  ten.  He,  with  several 
other  cavalrymen,  had  been  sitting  in  the  major's 
parlor,  listening  to  Lawrence's  tale  of  Els  expe 
riences  in  Washington.  "Winn  had  rejoined  the 
party  late,  and  one  glance  at  his  face  was  enough 


HO  4   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

to  tell  Brayton  that  somewhere  he  had  heard  of 
the  fracas  at  the  club-room.  Brayton's  boyish 
heart  was  bubbling  over  with  pride  and  delight  in 
this  new  and  unlooked-for  side  to  his  captain. 
Every  day  of  his  service  with  that  officer  only 
served  to  strengthen  the  regard  and  admiration 
Brayton  felt  for  him.  Barclay  had  made  no  pre 
tence  of  being  a  cavalryman  on  the  strength  of 
his  assignment  to  that  arm.  He  started  with  tfie 
assertion  that  he  had  everything  to  learn,  and 
then  surprised  his  subaltern  by  an  extensive 
knowledge  of  what  we  then  called  "the  tactics." 
He  was  certainly  not  as  much  at  home  in  saddle 
as  on  foot,  and  did  not  pretend  to  be,  but  he  was 
by  no  means  a  poor  or  ungraceful  rider.  He  had 
a  light,  gentle  hand,  at  least, — a  thing  much 
harder  for  most  men  to  acquire  than  a  good  seat. 
He  was  very  cool,  just,  and  level-headed  with  the 
members  of  the  troop,  not  a  few  of  whom  thought 
to  "run  it"  on  the  "doughboy"  captain;  but  all 
such  projects  had  flattened  out  within  the  fort 
night  after  his  coming.  Barclay  might  not  know 
horses,  but  he  did  know  men,  and  the  first  ser 
geant  was  the  first  to  find  it  out, — the  new  cap 
tain  calmly  and  almost  confidentially  pointing 
out  to  him,  after  ten  days  of  apparently  casual 
glancings  over  the  mess-room  and  kitchen,  that 
the  men  were  not  getting  their  proper  allowance 


3.   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

of  coffee,  and  that  the  savings  made  on  the  rations 
did  not  all  go  where  they  belonged. 

"Boy  an'  man,  sorr,"  began  Sergeant  Sullivan, 
oratorically  and  with  fine  indignation,  "I've 
sarved  in  the  dragoons  or  cavalry  the  best  fifteen 
years  of  me  life,  and  this  is  the  furrst  time  me 
honor's  been  called  into  account.  I  shall  tindher 
me  resignation  at  wanst." 

"I  have  had  its  acceptance  in  contemplation 
for  some  days,  sergeant,"  was  the  calm  response. 
"  But  first  we'll  overhaul  the  accounts." 

"Currnel  Larns's,  sorr,  would  niver  have 
treated  an  ould  soldier  in  this  way." 

"  That,  I  fear,  is  true,"  was  the  imperturbable 
response,  "  and  as  a  consequence  the  colonel  ap 
pears  to  have  been  robbed  right  and  left, — your 
own  name  being  brought  into  question.  That  will 
answer  for  the  present,  sergeant." 

And  when  the  troop  heard  that  Denny  Sulli 
van  had  been  "broke"  and  was  to  be  tried  by 
court-martial  for  thieving,  great  was  the  comment 
excited,  and  the  men  began  to  wonder  what  man 
ner  of  doughboy  was  this,  after  all,  that  had  come 
to  them, — the  doughboy  that  ould  Denny  had  so 
confidently  counted  on  running  to  suit  himself. 
But  this  didn't  begin  to  be  all.  A  very  acute 
trailer  was  Galahad.  Those  were  days  in  which 
only  a  subaltern,  and  not  always  even  a  subaltern, 


A    TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

was  expected  to  appear  at  morning  stables;  but 
the  new  captain  liked  to  rise  early,  he  said.  He 
was  up  with  the  sun  or  earlier,  and  hoof-  or  wheel- 
tracks  about  the  stables  before  the  herd  was  led 
forth  to  water  never  escaped  his  attention,  yet 
apparently  never  excited  remark.  Within  the 
third  week,  however,  another  non-commissioned 
officer  was  suddenly  nabbed,  and  so  was  a  wagon- 
load  of  forage,  going  off  to  a  neighboring  ranch 
at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Meantime  the 
men  noted  that  their  coffee  and  rations  were  bet 
ter  and  more  bountiful,  and  soldiers  are  quick  to 
receive  impressions  that  come  by  way  of  the 
stomach.  "The  new  captain  is  knocking  out  the 
old  abuses,"  said  they,  and  it  was  wonderful  how 
soon  the  ex-doughboy  made  his  way  into  their 
good  graces.  There  had  been  some  disposition  on 
the  part  of  the  wits  in  other  companies  to  refer 
to  Barclay's  men  as  "  The  Parson's  Own"  when  it 
was  announced  that  the  captain  had  attended  the 
chaplain's  evening  service,  but  even  that  was  be 
ginning  to  die  out,  when  all  of  a  sudden  it  was 
noised  abroad  this  evening  that  the  redoubtable 
Bralligan  had  been  felled  by  a  single  blow  of  that 
Quaker  fist. 

Brayton  was  fairly  quivering  with  excitement 
this  night  of  nights,  and  could  not  sleep.  He 
longed  to  see  his  captain  and  hear  his  version  of 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

the  affair,  but  the  door  was  tightly  closed  instead 
of  being  invitingly  open,  and  he  dared  not  in 
trude.  Not  one  word  had  been  said  about  the 
matter  at  the  major's,  but  Brayton  knew  it  would 
soon  be  known  even  to  the  officer  in  command. 
So  long,  however,  as  it  was  not  reported  to  him 
officially,  Frazier  would  probably  let  the  affair 
take  its  course.  Bralligan  deserved  the  knock 
down,  and  doubtless  would  be  glad  enough  to  let 
the  matter  end  there.  But,  thought  Brayton,  if 
he  should  demand  satisfaction,  and  Barclay's  re 
ligious  or  conscientious  scruples  were  to  prevent 
his  acceptance,  "  then  comes  my  chance,"  for  the 
youngster  himself  proposed  to  take  it  up.  He 
had  no  scruples.  He  had  been  longing  for  a 
chance  to  kick  that  cad  Bralligan  for  over  a  year, 
and  after  all  it  was  Barclay  that  got  it. 

Eleven  o'clock,  and  Barclay's  light  still  burned. 
Eleven-thirty,  and  still,  reading  or  writing,  the 
captain  seemed  occupied  in  the  old  poker  room, 
and  the  door  remained  closed.  Once  or  twice 
Brayton  heard  him  moving  about,  and  in  his  own 
excitement  and  interest  the  boy  found  it  impos 
sible  to  think  of  anything  else.  Twelve  o'clock 
came.  He  was  beginning  to  undress  and  prepare 
for  bed,  still  uneasily  watching  the  light  shining 
through  the  crack  of  the  door,  when  his  straining 

ears  caught  the  sound  of  a  footfall  underneath  his 

8 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

window.  It  opened  on  the  yard,  and  the  sill  was 
only  five  feet  or  so  above  the  ground.  A  hand 
was  uplifted  without  and  tapped  gently  on  the 
sash,  and  as  Brayton  drew  aside  the  curtain  Harry 
Winn's  face  was  revealed  in  the  moonlight. 

"  Come  to  the  porch  in  front,"  he  muttered  low. 
"  I  must  speak  with  you." 

Brayton  was  out  on  the  dark  piazza  in  half  a 
minute.  He  found  Winn  nervously  pacing  the 
boards. 

"  I  told  my  wife  I  had  to  come  out  and  think 
quietly  awhile,"  he  said,  as  he  extended  a  hand 
to  his  silent  classmate.  "  She  heard  of  this — this 
damnable  business  almost  as  quick  as  it  happened. 
That  girl  of  ours  hears  everything  and  tells  any 
thing.  There's  no  doubt  about  it,  I  suppose. 
You  were  there?  You  heard  it  at  once,  didn't 
you?  What  does— Tie  say?"  And  Winn's  nod 
indicated  that  he  meant  Barclay. 

"Nothing,"  said  Brayton,  briefly.    "I  haven't 

seen  him 

"But  he's  up.  The  light's  in  his  window. 
He's  writing — or  something.  Look  here,  Bray 
ton,  you  know  what's  got  to  come  of  this.  That 
damned  Irishman  must  challenge  him,  or  be  cut 
and  kicked  about  by  all  his  kind  in  the  cavalry. 
It  isn't  Barclay's  fight;  it's  mine.  The  more  I 
think  of  it  the  more  I  know  that,  contemptible  a 


A   TROOPER  GALAHAD. 

blackguard  as  Bralligan  is,  he  is  still  an  officer  of 
the  regiment.  He  has  been  knocked  down,  and 
has  the  right  to  demand  the  only  satisfaction  there 
is  for  a  blow.  You  know  it  as  well  as  I  do.  What 
I've  got  to  do  right  here  and  now  is  to_take  that 
fight  off  Barclay's  hands,  and  you've  got  to  help 


me." 


"  S'pose  he  don't  want  it  taken  off  his  hands," 
said  Brayton,  sturdily.  "He  told  him  plain 
enough  he  was  ready  to  meet  any  demand " 

Winn  reddened  even  in  the  pallid  moonlight. 
"  I  say  no  man  in  this  garrison- fights  on  my  wife's 
account  except  me — or  with  me.  They're  up 
with  Bralligan  now,  two  or  three  of  them,  and  I 
want  you  to  go  there  with  me  at  once  as  my  wit 
ness.  I  mean  to  cowhide  him  to-night.  Then  if 
he  wants  a  meeting  in  the  morning,  I'm  his  man." 
And  as  he  spoke  Winn  thrashed  nervously  at 
the  railing  with  the  stout  whip  he  carried  in  his 
hand. 

"That  won't  fix  it,"  answered  Brayton,  "and 
you  ought  to  have  sense  enough  to  know  it.  Bar 
clay  has  the  precedence.  The  Mick  couldn't  chal 
lenge  you  until  he'd  fought  him — or  been  refused 
a  fight.  You  go  to  bed,  Winn,"  and  Brayton 
spoke  even  lower.  "Your  wife  must  have  heard 
you  just  now,  and  first  thing  you  know  Barclay 
will  hear  you,  and" — with  almost  comical  irrele- 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

you  don't  want  to  meet  him  this  way, 
when  you  haven't  even  called  on  him." 

Winn  reddened  again.  There  was  a  tinge  of 
bitterness  in  his  tone  as  he  answered, — 

"Don't  trouble  yourself  about  Mrs.  Winn's 
hearing.  She's  placidly  asleep — long  ago.  As 
for  my  not  calling,  you  know  I've  only  been  out 
of  my  bed  three  days  or  so,  and  Captain  Barclay 
must  understand  that  a  man  burdened  as  I  have 
been  is  in  no  mood  for  social  observances.  This 
is  all  begging  the  question.  You're  the  only  man 
I  can  ask  to  be  my  second.  Finish  your  dressing 
now  and  come." 

"  Winn,  I  won't  do  it,"  said  Brayton,  with  flat- 
footed  decision.  "  This  is  my  captain's  affair,  and, 
from  what  I've  seen  of  him  since  he  joined,  I'm 
bound  to  say  what's  his  is  mine.  Besides,  you've 
got  no  business  mixing  up  in  the  matter.  You've 
got  your  wife  to  think  of,  and  you've  got  that 
commissary  business  to  straighten  out.  Barclay 
and  I  have  no  encumbrances  of  either  kind."  At 
the  moment,  I  fear  me,  the  young  gentleman 
could  have  added,  "Thank  God!"  for,  with  all 
his  appreciation  of  the  physical  perfections  of  his 
classmate's  wife,  Mr.  Brayton  was  keenly  aware 
of  her  many  extravagances. 

"  Of  course  I've  a  wife,"  answered  Winn,  hotly. 
"  It's  because  of  her  I  feel  bound  to  take  this  up. 


A  TROOPER  GALAHAD. 

As  for  that  commissary  money,  every  cent  will 
be  here  to  square  the  shortage,  whether  I  am  or 

not.  I'll  tell  you  what  others No!  I  can't 

even  tell  you,  Brayton.  But  an  old  friend  of  my 
father's  has  offered  his  help.  Now,  once  more, 
will  you  come  or  not  ?" 

"No,  Winn.  You  know  well  enough  I'd  see 

you  through  if Hush !  There's  Mullane  and 

some  one  else  coming  out  of  his  quarters  now." 

"Then,  by  God!  I'll  go  alone,"  exclaimed 
Winn,  "and  it's  got  to  be  done  before  they  get 
away."  And  he  would  have  gone  springing  down 
the  steps,  but  Brayton  seized  and  held  him. 

"For  God's  sake,  Harry,  be  quiet  to-night. 
Don't  go  near  him.  Quiet,  man!  Can't  you  see? 
Those  fellows  are  coming  this  way  now!" 

True  enough,  Mullane  and  his  companion,  who 
had  issued  from  the  fourth  set  of  quarters  down 
to  the  left,  turned  northward  the  moment  they 
reached  the  walk,  the  moonlight  gleaming  on  the 
buttons  of  their  uniform  frock-coats,  but  the  sight 
and  faint  sound  of  scuffling  on  Winn's  porch 
seemed  to  attract  their  attention.  They  stopped 
as  though  to  reconnoitre,  and  just  then  the  front 
door  of  Brayton's  hall  opened  wide,  and,  with  the 
broad  light  at  his  back,  Captain  Barclay  stepped 
quietly  forth. 

"Brayton,"  he  said,  "you  left  the  door  ajar, 


118  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

and  it  was  impossible  not  to  hear  the  latter  part 
of  this  conference. — Mr.  Winn,  I  presume^"  he 
continued,  with  calm,  courteous  bow,  as  the  two 
young  men,  unclasping,  turned  and  faced  him. 
"I  infer  that  you  purpose  going  to  Mr.  Bralli- 
gan's  quarters — now.  Let  me  urge  that  you  do 
nothing  of  the  kind.  Brayton  is  right.  I  see 
that,  late  as  it  is,  some  of  their  party  are  moving 
this  way.  Pray  remember  that  as  yet  this  is 
entirely  my  affair." 

There  was  no  time  for  other  answer  than  a  bow, 
a  mumbled  word  or  two,  an  embarrassed  accept 
ance  of  the  hand  extended  by  the  captain.  Just 
as  he  said,  Mullane  and  his  friend  were  coming 
rapidly  up  the  walk.  They  passed  the  Winns' 
gate,  entered  that  of  Brayton,  and  then  it  ap 
peared  that  Mullane's  friend  was  the  ubiquitous 
Hodge,  that  Mullane  was  manifestly  in  his  glory, 
and  that  both  were  perceptibly  in  liquor. 

"  Gintlemen,"  said  the  doughty  captain,  halt 
ing  at  the  foot  of  the  steps  and  raising  his  forage 
cap  with  magnificent  sweep,  "gintlemen,  I  am 
the  beerer  of  a  missige  from  me  f rind  Mr.  Bralli- 
gan.  Have  I  the  honor  of  addhressin'  Captain 
Barclay?"  Fondly  did  Mullane*  imagine  that  he 
impressed  his  hearers  as  did  Sir  Lucius  O' Trig 
ger;  and  much  did  he  remind  one  of  them,  at 
least,  of  Captain  Costigan  of  blessed  memory. 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  H9 

"This  is  Captain  Barclay,"  that  gentleman 
answered,  in  low  tones,  with  a  smile  of  amuse 
ment  at  Mullane's  grandiloquent  prelude,  yet 
stepping  quickly  forward  to  meet  the  envoys. 
Winn  could  not  but  note  that  the  captain's  move 
ment  accomplished  at  once  two  objects.  It  left 
him  and  Brayton  in  the  shade;  it  kept  Mullane 
and  Hodge  in  the  moonlight  and  off  the  steps. 
"Pardon  my  suggesting  that  a  lady  sleeps  in  the 
front  room  aloft  there,  and  that  you  speak  low,  so 
as  not  to  disturb  her.  Where  is  your  message?" 

This  was  trying.  Mullane  loved  his  chest  tones 
as  he  did  his  whiskey.  His  low  voice  was  apt  to 
be  thick  and  husky  and  unimpressive,  and  to 
night  he  was  over-weighted  with  the  sense  of  the 
gravity  and  importance  of  his  mission,  if  with 
nothing  else. 

"Sorr,"  he  said,  with  another  flourish  of  the 
cap,  "in  accordince  with  the  practice  of  gintle- 
men  in  the  old  arrumy,  I  am  the  bearer  of  a  verr- 

bal  missige ' 

The  Quaker  captain  had  already  amazed  the 
old  dragoon  sergeants  by  the  intricacy  and  extent 
of  his  knowledge  of  their  manners  and  customs. 
Now  came  a  surprise  for  the  officers. 

"  Pardon  my  interrupting,"  he  said.  "  I  do  not 
assume  to  instruct  in  such  matters,  but  there  is 
manifestly  only  one  kind  of  message  '  according 


120  A   TROOPER  GALAHAD. 

to  the  customs  of  the  old  army/  "  and  here  he 
smiled  quietly,  "  that  should  come  from  Mr.  Bral- 
ligan  now,  and  it  must  come  in  writing.  I  de 
cline  to  recognize  any  other."  Here  J3rayton 
nudged  "VYinn  approvingly,  but  the  subalterns 
maintained  a  decorous  silence. 

"  I've  niver  hurr'd  of  a  challenge  being  refused 
on  that  account/'  said  Mullane,  majestically, 
"and  if  me  wurreds  are  not  sufficient,  here's  me 
frind  Mr.  Hodge " 

"Your  words  are  not  brought  into  question, 
Captain  Mullane,  but  the  manner  of  your  mes 
sage  is.  Let  your  friend  put  it  in  writing,  and  it 
will  be  received.  Good-night  to  you,  sir." 

And,  to  Mullane's  utter  amaze  and  confusion, 
quickly  followed  by  an  explosion  of  wrath,  Cap 
tain  Barclay  coolly  turned  and  walked  within 
doors. 

"Hould  on  dthere!"  cried  Mullane,  as  he 
started  to  spring  up  the  steps,  but  Brayton 
stepped  in  front  of  him,  and  Hodge  nervously 
grabbed  his  arm.  Neither  knew  much  of  the 
"  code"  of  the  old  days,  but  each  had  learned  that 
Barclay  rarely  made  a  mistake.  Winn,  too,  tall 
and  strong,  stepped  in  front  of  the  angry  Irish 
man  as  he  broke  out  into  expletives.  "No  more 
of  that  here,  captain,"  he  cried,  forgetful  of  any 
consideration  of  rank.  "  This  noise  will  wake  the 


A   TROOPER  GALAHAD. 

post.  Rest  assured  your  principal  will  get  all 
the  fight  he  wants;"  and  then,  with  growing 
wrath,  for  Mullane  was  struggling  to  come  to  the 
steps,  "so  will  you,  by  God,  if  you  advance 
another  foot." 

"Winn — Winn,  for  heaven's  sake,  I  say!" 
cried  Brayton,  seizing  the  uplifted  arm.  "Go 
home,  Mullane.  Damn  it,  you're  in  no  shape  to 
handle  such  a  matter  to-night.  Go  home,  or  I 
swear  I'll  call  the  officer  of  the  day.  He's  com 
ing  now!"  he  exclaimed;  and  it  was  true,  for  the 
sound  of  excited  voices  had  reached  the  adjoining 
quarters,  and  out  from  the  doorway,  sashed  and 
belted,  came  the  massive  form  of  Captain  Blythe, 
his  sabre  clanking  on  the  door-sill.  Out,  too, 
from  Winn's  hallway  shot  a  broad  beam  of  light, 
and  hastening  along  the  porch  came  a  tall,  grace 
ful  form  in  some  clinging  rose-tinted  wrapper^  all 
beribboned  and  fluffy  and  feminine.  The  men 
fell  away  and  Mullane  drew  back  as  Mrs.  Winn 
scurried  to  her  husband's  side  and  laid  her  white 
hand  on  his  arm.  Forth  again  on  the  other  side 
of  Winn  came  Barclay,  and  his  deep  tones  broke 
the  sudden  silence. 

"Captain  Mullane,  leave  this  spot  instantly," 
he  ordered,  stern  and  low.  "  I'll  answer  to  you  in 
the  morning." 

"Come    out    of    this,    Mullane,"    demanded 


122  A  TROOPER  GALAHAD. 

Blythe,  striding  in  at  the  gate.  "Delay  one 
second,  and  I'll  order  you  under  arrest." 

Up  slowly  went  Mullane's  cap  with  the  same 
incomparable  sweep.  "In  the  prisince  of  lee- 
dies/'  said  he,  "I'm  disarrumed.  Captain  Bar 
clay,  I'll  see  ye  in  the  marrnin'." 

But  when  the  marrnin'  came  both  Mullane  and 
his  principal,  beside  bewildering  headaches,  had 
graver  matters  to  deal  with  than  even  a  very 
pretty  quarrel. 


CHAPTEK  IX. 

FROM  the  night  of  her  brilliant  appearance  at 
the  garrison  ball,  not  once  had  Mrs.  Winn  an  op 
portunity  to  exchange  a  dozen  words  with  Cap 
tain  Barclay.    Her  husband,  as  has  been  said,  had 
failed  to   call  on  his  new  next-door  neighbor, 
although  Winn  had  been  well  enough  to  be  about 
for  several  days,  and  until  he  did  call  it  was  im 
possible  for  Barclay  to  enter  their  doors,  and  ex 
pedient  that  he  should  avoid  Mrs.  Winn  wherever 
it  was  possible  to  do  so.     This  might  not  have 
been  difficult,  even  though  the  same  roof  covered 
both  households, — that  of  the  Winns  on  the  south 
and  that  of  the  Barclay-Brayton  combination  on 
the  north  side,— but  for  Laura  Winn  herself,  who 
seemed  to  be  out  on  the  porch  every  afternoon  as 
the  captain  came  walking  back  from  stables;  and 
the  women   who   were   apt  to   gather   at  Mrs. 
Blythe's  at  that  time   declared  that  there  was 
something  actually  inviting,  if  not  imploring,  in 
the  way  Mrs.  Winn  would  watch  for  him,  and 
bow,  and  seem  to  hover  where  he  could  hardly 
avoid  speaking  to  her.    Three  times  at  least  since 
that  memorable  party  had  she  been  there  "on 


123 


124:  ^   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

watch,"  as  Mrs.  Faulkner  expressed  it,  and 
though  his  bow  was  courtesy  itself,  and  his 
"Good-evening,  Mrs.  Winn,"  most  respectful, 
and  even  kindly,  if  one  could  judge  by  the  tone 
of  his  voice,  not  another  word  did  he  speak.  He 
passed  on  to  his  own  gateway,  Brayton  generally 
at  his  side,  and  his  stable  dress  was  changed  for 
parade  uniform  or  dinner  before  he  again  made 
his  appearance. 

After  the  manner  of  the  day,  most  of  the 
cavalry  contingent  stopped  in  at  the  club-room  on 
the  way  back  from  evening  stables.  Brayton 
used  to  do  so,  but,  though  no  one  could  say  his 
captain  had  preached  to  him  on  the  subject,  some 
influence  either  of  word  or  of  example  had  taken 
effect,  and  the  young  bachelor  seemed  entirely 
content  to  cut  the  club  and  the  social  tipple,  and 
to  trudge  along  by  his  new  companion's  side. 
They  had  been  getting  "mighty  thick"  for  cap 
tain  and  second  lieutenant,  said  some  of  the 
other  officers;  but,  serenely  indifferent  to  what 
others  thought  or  said,  the  two  kept  on  their 
way. 

"  Thought  you  were  goin'  to  wear  mournin'  for 
Lawrence  the  rest  of  your  natural  life,  Brayton; 
and  here  you  are  tyin'  to  Barclay  as  if  Lawrence 
had  never  lived,"  said  Mr.  Bralligan,  only  a  day 
or  two  before  Lawrence's  return,  and  Brayton 


"K  TROOPER   GALAHAD.  125 

started  almost  as  though  stung.  What  Bralligan 
said  was  not  half  as  ill  grounded  as  most  of  his 
statements,  and  Brayton  was  conscious  of  some 
thing  akin  to  guilt  and  self-reproach.  In  com 
mon  with  most  of  the  regiment,  he  had  felt  very 
sore  over  Lawrence's  going.  He  had  been  much 
attached  to  that  gallant  and  soldierly  captain,  but 
now  that  another  had  taken  his  place,  and  he 
could  compare  or  contrast  the  two,  the  youngster 
began  to  realize  with  something  like  a  pang  of 
distress — as  though  it  were  disloyal  to  think  so — 
that  in  many  ways  Barclay  was  "  head  and  shoul 
ders"  the  superior  man.  Lawrence  never  rose  till 
eight  o'clock  except  when  in  the  field.  Lawrence 
rarely  read  anything  but  the  papers  and  inter 
minable  controversies  over  the  war.  Lawrence, 
despite  the  claims  of  Ada  and  little  Jimmy,  often 
spent  an  evening  at  the  club,  and  always  stopped 
there  on  his  way  from  stables.  Lawrence  never 
studied,  and  off  the  drill-ground  never  taught. 
Indeed,  almost  all  the  drills  the  troop  had  known 
for  months  and  months  Brayton  himself  had  con 
ducted.  No  wonder  the  boy  had  wasted  hours  of 
valuable  time.  No  wonder  there  was  a  little 
game  going  on  among  the  youngsters  in  Bray- 
ton's  "  back  parlor"  many  a  day.  He  had  simply 
been  started  all  wrong. 

But  even  before  Barclay's  books  were  unpacked 


126  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

the  new  captain  had  found  means  to  interest  the 
young  fellow  in  professional  topics  that  Lawrence 
had  never  seemed  to  mention.  Barclay  had  evi 
dently  been  taking  counsel  with  progressive  sol 
diers  before  joining  his  new  regiment,  had  been 
reading  books  of  their  choosing,  and  among  others 
was  a  valuable  treatise  on  the  proper  method  of 
bitting  horses,  and  he  found  that  here  was  a  mat 
ter  that  Lawrence  and  Brayton  had  never  thought 
of  and  that  Brayton  said  was  never  taught  them 
at  the  Point, — which  was  strictly  true.  To  the 
amaze  and  unspeakable  indignation  of  Denny 
Sullivan,  who  was  soon  to  be  overhauled  on  graver 
points,  the  doughboy  had  taken  his  lieutenant 
from  horse  to  horse  in  the  troop  as  they  stood  at 
rest  during  drill,  and  shown  him  at  least  twenty 
bits  out  of  the  forty-five  in  line  that  were  no  fit 
at  all.  He  showed  him  some  that  were  too  broad 
from  bar  to  bar  and  that  slid  to  and  fro  in  the 
tortured  creature's  mouth;  others  that  hung  too 
low,  almost  "fell  through;"  others  whose  curb- 
chain  or  strap,  instead  of  fitting  in  the  groove, 
bore  savagely  on  the  delicate  bones  above  it  and 
tormented  the  luckless  charger  every  time  his 
rider  drew  rein.  Barclay  gave  the  boy  his  own 
carefully  studied  hand-book;  not  another  cavalry 
officer  then  at  Worth  had  read  it,  though  several 
had  heard  of  it.  The  youngster  was  set  to  work 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

fitting  new  bits  by  measurement  to  the  mouth  of 
every  horse  in  the  troop. 

Then  Barclay  drew  him  into  the  discussion,  of 
the  cavalry  system  of  saddling  as  then  prescribed, 
—the  heavy  tree  set  away  forward  close  to  the 
withers, — and  Brayton  could  only  say  that  "  that 
was  tactics  and  the  way  they'd  always  done  it." 
But  Galahad  pointed  out  that  the  tactics  then  in 
use  were  written  of  a  foreign  dragoon  saddle  with 
a  long  flat  bearing  surface.  It  was  all  very  well 
for  that  to  be  set  as  far  forward  as  it  would  go, 
because  even  then  the  centre  of  gravity  of  the 
rider  would  be  well  back  on  the  horse.  "But/' 
said  he,  "you  take  this  short  McClellan  tree, 
place  that  away  forward,  and  then  set  a  man  in  it ; 
his  centre  of  gravity  will  rest  in  front  of  the 
centre  of  motion  of  the  horse, — will  throw  the 
weight  on  the  forehand  and  use  up  his  knees  and 
shoulders  in  no  time."  This,  too,  set  Brayton  to 
studying  and  thinking,  while  Mullane  and  Fel 
lows  declared  Sir  Galahad  a  crank,  and  even 
Brooks  and  Blythe,  wedded  to  tradition,  thought 
him  visionary.  Then  when  the  books  came,  Gala 
had  unpacked,  and  just  where  the  poker-table 
used  to  stand  it  stood  now,  but  it  was  covered 
with  beautiful  maps  of  Alsace  and  Lorraine,  and 
Galahad's  desk  with  pamphlets  sent  him  from 
abroad,  the  earliest  histories  of  the  memorable 


128  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

campaign  about  Metz  and  Sedan.  The  next 
thing  Brayton  knew  he  was  as  deeply  interested 
as  his  captain,  and,  lo,  other  men  came  to  look 
and  wonder  and  go  off  shaking  their  heads, — 
those  of  them  who  were  of  the  Mullane  persua 
sion  sneering  at  those  "book-generals,"  while 
others,  like  Blythe,  pulled  up  a  chair  as  invited 
and  followed  the  junior  captain  through  his 
modest  explanation  with  appreciative  eyes. 
Those  were  days  when  there  was  all  too  little  time 
for  study  and  improvement,  thanks  to  the  almost 
incessant  Indian  scouting  required;  but  here  was 
"Worth,  a  big  post,  and  here  was  a  four-troop  bat 
talion  with  a  gentleman  and  not  a  bad  soldier  at 
its  head,  and  it  had  not  occurred  to  him  to  teach 
them  anything  or  to  require  of  them  anything 
beyond  the  usual  attention  to  stables,  troop-drill, 
and  an  occasional  parade.  If  his  men  were 
reasonably  ready  to  take  the  field  in  pursuit  of 
Kiowa,  Comanche,  or  horse-thief,  and  to  furnish 
escort  for  ambulance  and  train  when  the  disburs 
ing  officers  went  to  and  fro,  that  was  all  that  could 
be  expected  of  him  or  them  in  those  halcyon  days. 
And  now  "this  blasted  doughboy  substitute"  had 
come  down  here  and  was  proposing  to  stir  them 
all  up,  make  them  all  out  "  so  many  ignoramuses," 
said  Mullane.  "Bedad,  the  thing  is  revolution 
ary!"  And  that  was  enough  to  damn  it,  for  revo- 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

hition  is  a  thing  no  Irishman  will  tolerate,  when 
he  doesn't  happen  to  be  in  it  himself. 

Still  another  thing  had  occurred  to  make  Bar 
clay  something  apart  from  the  bachelors.  No 
sooner  had  his  modest  kit  of  household  goods  ar 
rived  than  the  unused  kitchen  of  Brayton's  quar 
ters  was  fitted  up;  Hannibal  was  ensconced 
therein;  a  neat  little  dining-room  was  made  of 
what  had  been  designed  for  a  small  bedchamber 
on  the  ground-floor,  and  Barclay  amazed  the  mess 
by  setting  forth  champagne  the  last  evening  he 
dined  there  as  a  member,  and  then  retired  to  the 
privacy  of  his  own  establishment,  as  he  had  at 
Sanders.  The  Winns'  house-maid  had  of  course 
dropped  in  to  see  how  Hannibal  was  getting 
along,  and  dropped  out  to  tell  her  discoveries, 
which  were  few.  Then  Brayton  found  the  mess 
saying  things  about  Barclay  he  could  not  agree 
with,  and  he,  too,  resigned  and  became  a  mess 
mate  of  his  captain, — a  change  for  the  better  that 
speedily  manifested  itself  in  the  healthy  white  of 
his  clear  eyes  and  a  complexion  that  bore  no  trace 
of  fiery  stimulants  such  as  were  indulged  in  else 
where.  Then  there  was  talk  of  others  leaving  the 
"Follansbee  family"  and  asking  to  join  at  Bray- 
ton's,  and  this  gave  umbrage  to  Erin  as  repre 
sented  in  the  bachelors'  mess.  And  so  an  anti- 
Barclay  feeling  had  sprung  up  at  the  post,  among 

9 


130  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

the  unlettered  at  least,  and  these  were  days  in 
which  the  unlettered  were  numerous.  "Sorry 
for  you,  Brayton,  me  boy/7  grinned  the  senior 
sub  of  Fellows's  troop.  "It  must  be  tough  to 
come  down  to  this  after  Lawrence.77  And  he  was 
amazed  at  Brayton7s  reply. 

"  Tough  ?  Yes,  for  it  shows  me  how  much  time 
I7ve  wasted.77 

"Wait  till  we  get  Galahad  out  on  the  trail 
wid  his  new-fangled  bits  and  seats,7'  sneered 
Mullane  but  a  day  or  two  before.  "  That'll  take 
the  damned  nonsense  out  of  him.  Faith,  whin 
he  goes  I  hope  I  may  go  along  too  to  see  the  fun.77 

And,  sooner  than  he  thought  for,  the  Irish  cap 
tain  had  his  wish. 

One  o'clock  had  just  been  called  off  by  the 
sentries,  and  the  moon  was  well  over  to  the  west, 
when  the  door  of  the  major's  quarters  was  opened 
and  he  with  his  lingering  guests  came  forth  upon 
the  broad  piazza,  the  red  sparks  of  their  cigars 
gleaming  anew  as  they  felt  the  fan  of  the  rising 
breeze.  Clear  and  summer-like  as  was  the  sky, 
there  was  a  reminder  of  the  snow-peaks  in  the 
wings  of  the  wind,  and  Lawrence  huddled  his  old 
cavalry  cape  about  his  shoulders  as  he  faced  it. 
He  was  talking  eagerly,  perhaps  a  little  bombas 
tically,  of  this  great  new  mining  company  in 
which  BufFstick  was  prominent  as  a  director.  He 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

was  full  of  hope  and  anticipation  and  disposed 
to  patronize  a  trifle  his  friends  who,  wedded  to 
the  humdrum  of  the  army,  were  debarred  from 
so  fine  an  opportunity  of  making  money  in  abun 
dance.  So  many  of  the  number  were  going  to 
do  so  much  in  the  same  way  when  first  they  left 
us  for  the  broader  paths  of  civil  life. 

"I  tell  you,  Brooks,"  he  said,  enthusiastically, 
"I  wouldn't  take  ten  thousand  dollars  cash  this 
night  for  my  chance  of  making  twice  that  sum 
within  the  year.  Buffstick  turns  everything  he 
touches  into  gold." 

"Wonder  if  Barclay  knows  these  mines,"  said 
De  Lancy,  reflectively,  flipping  the  ashes  from  the 
end  of  his  cigar.  "  He  has  never  opened  his  head 
about  his  mines  to  a  soul.  "We  don't  know  where 
they  are." 

"  I  don't  know,"  saiH.  Lawrence,  briefly.  Even 
yet  the  mention  of  Barclay  chafed  him  a  bit.  "  I 
know  this,  though,  that  that  company  wouldn't 
offer  me  any  such  salary  as  twenty-five  hundred 
dollars  a  year  just  to  boss  their  men,  unless  there 
was  big  money  in  it  somewhere.  It's  the  first 
time  I  ever  knew  what  it  was  to  be  indifferent  to 
the  coming  of  the  paymaster.  By  the  way,  he 
ought  to  be  here  day  after  to-morrow,  or  to-mor 
row  night  in  fact;  it's  long  after  twelve  now. 
The  escorts  were  warned  as  we  came  along." 


132  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

"I  think  it  a  mistake/7  said  Brooks,,  gravely, 
"to  let  any  one  know  beforehand  when  the  pay 
master  is  to  start.  That  Friday  gang  probably 
musters  a  hundred  by  this  time.  It's  where  all 
our  thieves  and  deserters  go.  I  haven't  a  doubt 
your  old  sergeant  has  joined  them  by  this  time, 
Lawrence.  I  believe  that's  where  Marsden's 
gone,  and  that  we'll  hear  from  them  in  force 
again  before  we're  a  month  older.  They've  kept 
reasonably  quiet  all  winter,  but  June  isn't  far  off. 
I'm  blessed  if  I  would  want  to  make  that  trip 
from  San  Antonio  with  forty  thousand  dollars  in 
greenbacks  with  less  than  a  big  troop  of  cavalry 
to  guard  it." 

"He's  got  more  money  than  that  this  time/' 
said  Lawrence.  "Most  of  these  men  have  four 
months'  pay  due  them;  so  have  the  cavalry  along 
the  route.  He  has  two  other  posts  to  pay. 
Hallo!"  he  cried,  breaking  suddenly  off,  "what's 
all  the  light  about  down  at  the  sutler's?  Here 
comes  the  sergeant  of  the  guard." 

Eunning  diagonally  across  the  parade,  the 
moonlight  glinting  on  his  buttons  and  accoutre 
ments,  an  infantry  non-commissioned  officer  was 
speeding  towards  the  quarters  of  Captain  Blythe, 
near  the  upper  end  of  the  row;  but,  catching 
sight  of  the  group  at  the  major's,  he  suddenly 
swerved  and  came  straight  towards  them,  spring- 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  ^33 

ing  over  the  gurgling  acequia  and  the  dusty  road 
way  and  halting  at  the  gate. 

"What  is  it,  sergeant?"  asked  two  or  three 
voices  at  once. 

"I  was  looking  for  the  officer  of  the  day,  sir. 
Is  he  here?" 

"Over  at  his  quarters,  probably.  What's 
amiss?" 

"There's  two  of  Fuller's  men  in,  sir,  from 
Crockett, — just  about  played  out.  They  swear 
that  not  an  hour  after  sunset  the  whole  Friday 
gang — it  couldn't  have  been  anything  else — 
came  a-riding  out  from  the  foot-hills  over  towards 
the  Wild  Eose  and  kept  on  to  the  southeast. 
They  saw  the  dust  against  the  sky  and  hid  in  the 
rocks  away  off  to  the  east  of  the  trail,  and  they 
swear  there  must  have  been  fifty  of  'em  at  least." 

He  had  hardly  time  to  finish  the  words  when 
the  sutler  himself  came  galloping  over  the  parade, 
"  hot  foot,"  on  his  wiry  mustang,  and  drew  up  in 
front  of  the  gate.  "Has  the  sergeant  told  you?" 
he  asked,  breathlessly.  "It's  Reed  and  his  part 
ner, — two  of  the  best  men  on  my  ranch, — and 
they  can't  be  mistaken.  You  know  what  it  must 
mean,  gentlemen.  The  gang  is  after  the  pay 
master,  and  I  think  Colonel  Frazier  should  know 
at  once."  "No  wonder  Fuller  was  breathless,  bare 
headed,  and  only  half  dressed.  Anywhere  from 


134  A   TROOPER  GALAHAD. 

thirty  to  forty  thousand  dollars  might  be  diverted 
from  its  proper  and  legitimate  use  if  that  Friday 
gang  should  overpower  the  guard  and  get  away 
with  it.  His  coffers  were  filled  with  sutler  checks 
redeemable  in  currency  at  the  pay-table,  as  was 
the  wonted  way  of  the  old  army.  It  was  a  case 
of  feast  or  famine  with  Fuller,  and  he  poured  his 
tale  into  sympathetic  ears.  Brooks  himself  went 
over  to  the  colonel's,  and  found  that  weasel  of  a 
chief  already  awake.  Mrs.  Frazier  didn't  allow 
galloping  over  her  parade  in  the  dead  of  the  night 
without  an  attempt  to  detect  the  perpetrator. 
That  vigilant  dame  had  more  than  once  brought 
graceless  skylarkers  to  terms,  and  the  quadrupe- 
dante  putrem  sonitu  of  Fuller's  mustang  repre 
sented  to  her  incensed  and  virtuous  ears  only  the 
mad  lark  of  some  scapegrace  subaltern,  who  per 
chance  had  not  been  as  attentive  to  'Manda  as  ho 
should  have  been,  and  she  was  out  of  dreamland 
and  over  at  the  window  before  Fuller  fairly  drew 
rein. 

"What  is  it,  Brooks,  me  boy?"  asked  Frazier 
from  his  casement,  as  did  gallant  O'Dowd  of  his 
loyal  Dobbin.  "I'll  be  down  in  a  minute."  By 
the  time  he  reached  the  door  Fuller  had  hurried 
up  his  stiff  and  wearied  scouts,  and  in  the  presence 
of  a  little  party  of  officers  the  story  was  told  again, 
and  told  without  break  or  variation.  There  was 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  135 

only  one  opinion.  The  scattered  outlaws  had 
easily  got  wind  of  the  coming  of  the  paymaster 
with  his  unusual  amount  of  treasure,  and,  quickly 
assembling,  they  were  heading  away  to  meet  him 
far  to  the  southeast  of  the  big  post,  very  possibly 
planning  to  ambuscade  the  party  in  the  winding 
denies  of  the  San  Saba  Hills.  Not  a  moment  was 
to  be  lost.  For  the  first  time  the  full  weight  of 
his  divorce  from  all  that  was  once  his  profession 
and  his  pride  fell  on  Ned  Lawrence,  as  for  an 
instant  the  colonel's  eyes  turned  to  him  as  of  old, 
— the  dashing  and  successful  leader  of  the  best 
scouts  sent  from  Worth  in  the  last  two  years. 
Then,  as  though  suddenly  realizing  that  he  had 
no  longer  that  arm  to  lean  on,  old  Frazier  spoke : 

"  Why,  Brooks,  you'll  have  to  go.  I  can't  trust 
such  a  command  to  Mullane,  and  it'll  take  two 
companies  at  least." 

And  twenty  minutes  later,  answering  the  sharp 
summons  of  their  veteran  sergeants,  the  men  of 
Mullane's  and  Barclay's  troops  were  tumbling  out 
of  their  bunks  and  into  their  boots,  "hell-bent  Tor 
a  rousin'  ride,"  and  the  old  captain  of  Troop  "D" 
was  saying  to  the  new,  "  Captain  Barclay,  may  I 
ask  you  for  a  mount?  I've  been  longing  for  two 
years  past  for  a  whack  at  this  very  gang,  and  now 
that  the  chance  has  come  I  cannot  stay  here  and 
let  my  old  troop  go." 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

And  all  men  present  marked  the  moment  of 
hesitation,  the  manner  of  reluctance,  before  Bar 
clay  gravely  answered,  "There  is  nothing  at  my 
disposal  to  which  you  are  not  most  welcome,  Colo 
nel  Lawrence;  and  yet — do  you  think — you 

ought  to  go?" 

"I  could  not  stay  here,  sir,  and  see  my  old 
troop  go  without  me,"  was  the  answer. 

Few  were  the  families  at  Fort  Worth  that  were 
not  up  and  out  on  the  piazzas  or  at  the  windows 
to  see  Brooks's  detachment  as  it  marched  away 
in  the  light  of  the  setting  moon  just  as  the  stars 
were  paling  in  the  eastern  sky;  but  the  merciful 
angel  of  sleep  spread  her  hushing  wings  over  the 
white  bed  where  two  children  lay  dreaming,  an3 
never  until  the  troopers  were  miles  beyond  the 
vision  of  the  keen-eyed  sentries  did  Ada  know  that 
the  loved  father,  restored  to  her  but  a  few  hours 
before,  was  once  more  riding  the  Texan  trail, 
soldier  sense  of  duty  leading  on,  and  God  alone 
knowing  to  what  end. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  day  that  broke  on  old  Fort  Worth  thus 
late  in  a  sunshiny  May  proved  one  of  deep 
anxiety.  There  was  no  telegraph  wire  then  to 
connect  it  with  the  distant  head-quarters  of  the 
department.  If  there  had  been  it  would  have 
been  cut  six  times  a  week.  There  was  no  way  of 
waving  back  the  coming  convoy  or  of  signalling 
danger.  Crockett  Springs  lay  a  long  day's  ride 
to  the  southeast,  and  the  little  troop  of  cavalry 
there  in  camp  was  looking  for  the  coming  of  no 
call  upon  it  for  duty  until  early  on  the  morrow 
it  should  supply  the  paymaster  and  his  party  with 
breakfast,  the  ambulance  with  fresh  mules  and 
driver,  and  the  night  riders  of  the  escort  with 
their  relief.  Forty  troopers  from  Crockett 
Springs  would  take  the  place  of  those  who  had 
come  from  the  San  Saba,  and  trot  along  with  the 
paymaster  until,  somewhere  about  midway  to 
Worth,  they  should  meet  the  forty  sent  out  the 
previous  night  to  bivouac  on  the  prairie  and  be 
ready  to  take  up  the  gait  and  keep  it  until  the 
man  of  money  and  his  safe  were  well  within  the 
limits  of  the  reservation.  But  the  fifty-mile  stage 

137 


138  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

from  Crockett  to  the  southeast  was  the  worst  on 
the  long  line.  The  road  wound  over  the  divide 
to  the  valley  of  the  San  Saba,  and  on  the  way  had 
to  twist  and  turn  through  denies  of  the  range  of 
hills,  where  more  than  a  dozen  times  Indians  and 
outlaws  had  defied  the  little  detachments  of 
cavalry  scouting  after  them.  The  worst  part  of 
the  pass  lay  some  twenty  miles  beyond  the  stage 
station  at  Crockett  Springs.  Neither  Indians  nor 
outlaws,  to  be  sure,  had  been  heard  of  in  that 
neighborhood  for  several  months,  but  that  proved 
nothing.  It  was  easy  for  the  latter  to  sweep  from 
their  supposed  fastnesses  in  the  Apache  range  to 
the  west,  and,  issuing  from  the  Wild  Rose  Pass, 
to  water  miles  below  the  springs  and  then  line  the 
rocks  in  the  heart  of  the  San  Saba  Pass,  without 
a  trooper  being  the  wiser.  Forty  cavalrymen,  as 
Lawrence  knew,  would  be  the  major's  escort  from 
the  camp  on  the  Rio  San  Saba  beyond  the  range. 
Forty  men  disciplined  and  organized  ought  ordi 
narily  to  be  able  to  cope  with  any  band  of  outlaws 
to  be  found  in  Texas.  But  when,  as  was  now 
reasonably  certain,  this  far-famed  Friday  gang 
had  received  accessions  from  the  troops  themselves 
and  had  welcomed  the  deserters  and  desperadoes 
so  frequently  sloughed  off  from  the  soldier  skin 
of  Uncle  Sam  in  the  days  close  following  the  great 
war,  there  was  grave  reason  for  precaution,  and 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

graver  still  for  anxiety.  Question  as  he  might, 
Frazier  could  not  shake  an  atom  of  the  original 
statement  of  Fuller's  men.  Fifty  mounted  out 
laws,  at  least  count,  with  a  dozen  led  horses,  they 
had  seen  through  their  field-glass  far  over  the 
prairie,  pushing  southeastward  from  the  direction 
of  Wild  Rose  Pass  of  the  Apache  range,  straight 
for  the  lower  valley  through  which  ran  the  little 
stream  that  had  its  source  at  Crockett  Springs. 

So  there  were  anxious  hearts  at  Worth,  for, 
while  it  was  felt  that  Brooks  would  lose  no 
moment  and  was  well  on  his  way  at  four  o'clock 
of  this  bright  Sunday  morning,  he  had  still  some 
sixty  miles  to  traverse  before  he  could  get  to 
Crockett,  rest  and  bait  his  men  and  horses,  pick 
up  Cramer's  troop  there  camped,  and  then  push 
ahead  for  the  San  Saba,  where  he  expected  to  find 
the  outlaw  gang  disposed  in  ambuscade,  confi 
dently  awaiting  the  coming  of  their  prey. 

Now,  Brooks  had  men  enough  to  thrash  them 
soundly,  but  unless  he  caught  them  in  the  act  of 
spoliation  he  lacked  authority.  Just  as  sure  as  he 
pitched  into  a  force  of  armed  frontiersmen,  they 
would  appeal  to  the  courts,  and  public  sentiment 
would  be  dead  against  him.  He  could  doubtless 
push  ahead  through  the  range,  careless  of  lurk 
ing  scouts  of  the  would-be  robbers,  meet  Major 
Pennywise  and  his  protectors,  and  escort  them 


140  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

back  in  safety.  That  problem  presented  no  great 
difficulty;  but  what  Frazier  wanted  and  Brooks 
wanted  and  everybody,  presumably,  wante'd  was 
that  the  outlaws  should  be  caught  in  the  act  and 
be  punished  then  and  there.  The  question  was 
how  to  catch  them  in  the  act  without  being  them 
selves  discovered,  and  before  the  gang  had  had 
time  to  inflict  much  damage  on  the  paymaster's 
party.  There  was  the  rub.  "Why,  their  first 
volley,  delivered  from  ambush,  might  kill  half  the 
outfit  and  the  paymaster  too,"  said  Frazier.  "  No, 
we  dare  not  risk  it,  Brooks.  Push  through  and 
pull  him  through,  that's  the  best  we  can  do — un 
less,"  and  here  came  the  redeeming  clause,  "un 
less  on  the  way  you  should  light  071  some  unfore 
seen  chance.  Then — use  your  discretion." 

Mounted  on  the  very  horse  he  used  to  ride  as 
troop  commander,  and  with  the  old  familiar  horse- 
equipments,  Ned  Lawrence  left  the  post  at  the 
major's  side.  He  had  slept  as  only  soldiers  can, 
curled  up  in  the  stage-coach,  during  the  previous 
afternoon,  and  was  in  far  better  trim  for  the  long 
ride  in  saddle  than  Captain  Mullane,  who  with 
bleary  eyes  and  muddled  head  rode  solus  in  front 
of  the  leading  troop,  liis  one  lieutenant,  Mr.  Bral- 
ligan,  being  reported  by  Dr.  Collabone's  assistant 
as  sick  in  quarters,  which  indeed  he  was,  with  a 
lump  the  size  of  an  apple  on  the  side  of  his  head, 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

and  another,  apparently  the  heft  and  density  of 
a  six-pounder  cannon-ball,  rolling  about  inside  of 
it.  "D"  Troop,  jogging  easily  along  at  the  rear 
of  column,  was  led  by  Barclay  and  Brayton,  both 
of  whom  had  marked  the  absence  of  the  subaltern 
of  the  leading  company,  and  neither  of  whom  was 
surprised  when  ten  miles  out  there  came  galloping 
past  them,  with  a  touch  of  the  hand  to  his  hat- 
brim,  the  late  regimental  commissary,  Lieutenant 
Harry  Winn. 

"That's  good!"  said  Brayton,  as  he  saw  his 
classmate  ride  up  to  the  major  and  report,  then 
fall  back  and  range  himself  alongside  Mullane. 
But  Barclay  was  silent. 

"You  think  he  ought  not  to  have  come?"  asked 
Brayton,  half  hesitatingly,  as  he  glanced  at  his 
silent  leader. 

"  I'm  thinking  more  of  others — who  should  be 
here,"  was  the  answer.  "Yet  those  two  have  so 
much  to  leave."  And  Brayton,  following  the 
glance  of  his  captain's  eyes,  fully  understood. 

The  morning  grew  warm  as  the  sun  began  to 
climb  above  the  distant  low-lying  hills  to  the  east. 
The  dust  soon  rose  in  dense  clouds  from  beneath 
the  crushing  hoofs,  and,  leaving  Brayton  with  the 
troop,  Barclay  cut  across  the  chord  of  a  long  arc 
in  the  trail  and  reined  up  alongside  the  major. 
The  command  at  the  moment  was  moving  at  a 


142  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

sharp  trot  through  a  long,  low  depression  in  the 
prairie-like  surface.  Brooks  returned  the  cap 
tain's  punctilious  salute  with  a  cheery  nod  and 
cordial  word  of  greeting. 

"With  your  permission,  sir,  I  will  fall  back  a 
hundred  yards  or  so,  divide  the  troop  into  sec 
tions,  and  so  i*void  the  dust." 

Brooks  glanced  back  over  his  shoulder.  "  Why, 
certainly,  captain/'  said  he.  "I  ought  to  have 
known  the  dust  would  be  rising  by  this  time. 
It's  eight  o'clock,"  he  continued,  glancing  at  his 
watch.  Barclay  turned  in  saddle  and  signalled 
with  his  gauntlet,  whereat  Brayton  slackened 
speed  to  the  walk,  and  a  gap  began  to  grow  be 
tween  the  rearmost  horses  of  Mullane's  troop  and 
the  head  of  "  D's"  already  dusty  column. 

"Bide  with  us  a  moment,  won't  you,  Barclay?" 
called  the  major,  significantly,  as  his  subordinate 
seemed  on  the  point  of  reining  aside  to  wait  for 
his  men.  "I  want  you  two  to  know  each  other." 
And  the  new  and  the  old  captain  of  "  D"  Troop, 
who  had  courteously  shaken  hands  with  each 
other  when  presented  in  the  dim  light  of  the  de 
clining  moon  at  four  o'clock,  now  trotted  side  by 
side,  Lawrence  eying  his  successor  with  keen  yet 
pleasant  interest.  He  had  been  hearing  all  man 
ner  of  good  of  him  during  the  wakeful  watches  of 
the  night,  and  was  manfully  fighting  against  the 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  143 

faint  yet  irrepressible  feeling  of  jealous  dislike 
with  which  broader  and  better  men  than  he  have 
had  to  struggle  on  being  supplanted.  Do  what 
he  might  to  battle  against  it,  Lawrence  had  been 
conscious  of  it  hour  after  hour,  and  felt  that  he 
winced  time  and  again  when  some  of  the  callers 
spoke  even  guardedly  of  the  changes  Barclay  was 
making  in  the  old  troop,  changes  all  men  except 
the  ultra-conservative  ranker  element  (as  the 
ranker  was  so  often  constituted  at  that  peculiar 
time,  be  it  understood)  could  see  were  for  the 
better. 

"You  and  Barclay  lead  on,  will  you,  Ned?" 
said  the  major,  in  his  genial  way.  "I  wish  to 
speak  with  Mullane  a  moment."  Whereat  he 
reined  out  to  the  right  and  waited  for  the  big 
Irishman  to  come  lunging  up.  Mullane  was  al 
ready  spurring  close  at  his  heels,  gloomily  eying 
the  combination  in  front.  "  There  are  Oirish  and 
Oirish,"  as  one  of  their  most  appreciative  and 
broad-minded  exponents,  Private  Terence  Mul- 
vaney,  has  told  us;  and  it  galled  the  veteran 
dragoon  to  see  his  junior  in  rank  bidden  to  ride 
even  for  the  moment  at  the  head  of  the  swiftly 
moving  column.  So,  reckless  of  the  fact  that  his 
individual  spurt  would  call  for  a  certain  forcing 
of  the  pace  along  his  entire  troop,  now  moving  in 
long  column  of  twos,  Mullane  had  spurred  his 


144  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

horse  to  close  tlie  twelve-yard  gap  between  him 
self  and  the  major's  orderly,  determined  that 
there  should  be  no  conference  of  the  powers  in 
which  he  was  not  represented. 

"Captain  Mullane,"  said  Brooks,  "I  see  it  is 
getting  dusty.  You  might  divide  into  sections, 
as  i  D?  troop  has  done,  and  keep  fifty  yards  apart, 
so  that  the  dust  can  blow  aside  and  not  choke 
your  men." 

"This  is  *L?  Troop,  sorr,  and  my  men  are  not 
babes  in  arrums,"  was  Mullane's  magnificent  re 
ply.  At  any  other  time  he  might  have  felt  the 
pertinence  of  the  suggestion,  but  here  was  a  case 
where  a  doughboy  captain,  bedad,  had  instigated 
the  measure  for  the  comfort  of  his  men.  That 
was  enough  to  damn  it  in  the  eyes  of  the  old  dra 
goon.  The  answer  was  shouted^  too,  with  double 
intent.  Mullane  desired  Barclay  to  hear  what 
he  thought  of  such  over-solicitude;  but  Barclay, 
riding  onward  sturdily  if  not  quite  so  easily  as 
was  Lawrence,  gave  no  sign.  He  was  listening, 
with  head  inclined,  to  the  words  of  the  keen  cam 
paigner  on  his  right. 

Brooks  was  quick  to  note  the  intention  of  the 
Irish  officer,  and  equally  quick  to  note  the  flushed 
and  inflamed  condition  of  his  face,  the  thickness 
of  his  tongue.  "So  ho,  my  Celtic  friend," 
thought  he,  as  he  saw  that  two  canteens  were 


Z  TROOPER   GALAHAD.  145 

swung  on  the  off  side  of  Mullane's  saddle,  one  at 
the  cantle  under  the  rolled  blanket,  the  other  half 
shaded  by  the  bulging  folds  of  the  overcoat  at  the 
pommel,  "I  suspected  there  was  more  whiskey 
than  wit  in  your  eagerness  at  the  start;  now  I 
know  it." 

But  even  to  Mullane  the  major  would  not 
speak  discourteously.  "We  all  know  'I/  Troop 
is  ready  for  anything,  captain,"  he  smilingly  an 
swered,  "but  I  have  to  call  for  unusual  exer 
tion  to-day,  and  the  fresher  they  are  to-night  the 
better.  Let  them  open  out,  as  I  say,"  he  con 
tinued;  and  Mullane  saw  it  was  useless  to  put  on 
further  airs. 

"  You  Hind  to  it,  sergeant,"  he  grunted  over  his 
shoulder  to  his  loyal  henchman,  and  then,  unin 
vited,  ranged  up  alongside  the  leader. 

The  prairie  was  open  here;  the  road  split  up 
into  several  tracks  from  time  to  time,  and  the 
men  could  have  ridden  platoon  front  without 
much  difficulty  for  two  or  three  miles.  Away  to 
the  southeast  the  ground  rose  in  slow,  gradual, 
almost  imperceptible  slope  to  the  edge  of  the  far 
horizon,  not  a  tree  or  shruB  exceeding  a  yard  in 
height  breaking  anywhere  the  dull  monotony  of 
the  landscape.  Eastward,  miles  and  miles  away, 
a  line  of  low  rolling  hills  framed  the  dull  hues 
of  the  picture.  ISTorthward  there  was  the  same 


10 


146  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

almost  limitless  expanse  of  low,  lazy  undulation. 
To  the  right  front,  the  south  and  southwest,  the 
land  seemed  to  fall  away  in  even  longer,  lazier 
billows,  until  it  flattened  out  into  a  broad  valley, 
drained  by  some  far-distant,"  invisible  stream. 
Only  to  the  west  and  northwest,  over  their  right 
shoulders,  was  there  gleam  of  something  brighter. 
The  faint  blue  outline  of  the  far-away  Apache 
range  was  still  capped  in  places  By  glistening 
white,  while  straight  away  to  the  northwest,  back 
of  and  beyond  the  dim  dust-cloud  through  which 
the  swallow-tailed  guidons  were  peeping,  hovered 
over  their  winding  trail  the  bold  and  commanding 
heights,  Fort  'Worth's  shelter  against  the  keen 
blasts  that  swept  in  winter-time  across  the  prairie 
from  the  upper  valley  of  the  Rio  Bravo.  Four 
hours  out,  and  just  where  the  road  dipped  into 
that  broad  deep  swale  a  quarter-mile  behind  the 
rearmost  troopers, — just  where  the  wreck  of  one 
of  Fuller's  wagons  and  the  bones  of  two  of  Ful 
ler's  mules  and  the  soft  spongy  mud  to  the  west 
of  the  trail  told  how  the  waters  could  gather  there 
in  the  rainy  season  and  evaporate  to  nothingness 
when  needed  in  the  dry, — a  solitary  stake  driven 
into  the  yielding  soil  bore  on  bullet-perforated 
cross-board  the  legend,  "20  miles  to  Worth  and 
only  20  rods  to  Hell." 

Only  twenty  miles  in  four  tours,  with  fresh 


A    TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

horses  and  the  cool  of  the  morning,  and  a  pay 
master  with  forty  thousand  dollars  in  deadly 
danger  some  sixty  to  eighty  miles  away.  Slow 
going  that,  yet  scientific.  Not  another  drop  of 
water  could  those  lively  chargers  hope  to  have 
until  they  reached  the  springs  at  Crockett,  forty 
miles  away.  Thrice  has  Brooks  halted  for  brief 
ten  minutes'  rest,  the  resetting  of  saddles,  etc., 
and  now,  after  fifteen  minutes'  lively  jog,  he  sig 
nals  "  walk"  again,  and  glances  back  to  watch  the 
march  of  his  men.  By  this  time  the  column  is 
long  drawn  out.  The  two  troops  are  split  up  into 
four  sections  each,  riding  a  little  over  a  dozen 
men  in  a  bunch;  by  this  means  they  are  relieved 
from  the  ill  effects  of  the  choking  clouds  of  dust. 
Mullane  halts  with  the  major.  It  pleases  him  to 
convey  the  impression  to  his  men  that  Brooks 
can't  get  along  without  him.  A  big  pull  at  his 
pommel  canteen,  ten  minutes  back,  has  tempo 
rarily  braced  him,  and  he  wants  to  talk,  whereas 
Brooks,  intent  on  the  duty  before  him,  wishes  to 
think. 

"Hwat  time  will  we  make  Crockett's,  major?" 
"Not  before  five  or  five-thirty,"  is  the  brief 
answer. 

"'L'  Troop  can  do  it  in  two  hours  less." 
"  So  could  '  D,'  if  it  hadn't  to  push  on  again  at 
nightfall."    Brooks  answers  in  civil  tone,  despite 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

the  hint  conveyed  by  the  brevity  of  his  words, 
despite  the  conviction  that  is  growing  on  him  as 
he  somewhat  warily  glances  over  his  companion, 
that  what  "L"  might  do  its  captain  won't  do  if 
he  consults  that  canteen  again.  Two  silent 'but 
keen-eared  orderlies  are  sitting  in  saddle  close  be 
side  their  respective  officers,  and  it  will  not  do  to 
give  his  thoughts  away. 

Then  Mullane  tries  another  tack.  He  seeks 
confidential  relations  with  his  chief;  and  when 
an  Irishman  has  a  man  he  is  jealous  of  to  talk 
about  and  whiskey  to  start  him,  he  needs  no  sup 
ply  of  facts;  they  bubble  from  his  seething  brain, 
manufactured  for  the  occasion. 

"The  Preacher  was  caught  where  he  couldn't 
get  out  of  it,"  says  he,  with  a  leering  wink  at  the 
leading  horseman.  "  Is  he  larnin'  his  thrade  from 
Lawrence,  afther  robbin'  him  av  his  throop?" 

And  now  Brooks  fires  up  unexpectedly.  Turn 
ing  quickly  on  the  Irishman  with  anger  in  his 
eyes,  the  major  bends  forward  over  the  pommel. 
"  Captain  Mullane,"  he  says,  so  low  that  the  near 
by  troopers  fail  to  catch  his  words,  so  distinctly 
that  the  captain  cannot  fail  to,  "there  are  things 
of  more  value  in  a  trade  than  the  tricks  of  it  that 
you  seem  to  know  so  well.  You  can  learn  more 
from  Captain  Barclay  that  is  worth  knowing  than 
you  can  ever  teach  him,  and  I'll  listen  to  no  slur 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

at  his  expense.  You've  been  drinking  too  much, 
Mullane.  Take  my  advice  and  pull  the  stopper 
out  of  that  canteen  and  put  one  on  your  tongue." 

The  Irishman  boils  up  with  wrath.  The  idea 
of  Major  Mildmanners  pitching  into  him — him, 
that  was  once  the  pride  of  the  Second  Dragoons! 
— and  praising  that  white-livered  parson !  Whur- 
roo!  Mullane  at  the  moment  could  have  flung 
commission  and  conscience  to  the  wind,  every 
thing  but  that  canteen.  Nothing  but  the  stern 
and  icy  stare  in  Brooks's  usually  benignant  eye 
represses  the  outburst  trembling  on  the  tangling 
tip  of  his  tongue. 

"If  you  knew — what  I  know,  sorr,  that  man'd 
not  be  ridin'  wid  his  betthers,"  he  begins,  "and 
it's  this  night  that'll  prove  me  wurrds." 


CHAPTEK  XL 

IT  was  at  four  o'clock  of  a  blistering  afternoon, 
twelve  hours  from  the  time  of  their  start  from 
the  post,  that  the  leaders  in  the  long-extended 
column  hove  in  sight  of  a  patch  of  green  down 
in  a  distant  depression  to  the  south  that  marked 
the  site  of  Crockett  Springs.  Beyond  it,  hem 
ming  the  broad,  shallow  valley,  there  rose  a  long 
wave  of  bare,  desolate  heights,  rounded  and  bil 
lowing  in  soft  and  graceful  contours  as  they 
rolled  away  northeastward,  abrupt  and  jagged 
towards  the  south  and  southwest,  where  the 
stream  seemed  to  have  torn  a  pathway  for  the 
sudden  torrents  of  the  springtide  that  foamed 
away  towards  the  broader  valley  of  the  Bravo. 
At  the  point  where,  rounding  the  nose  of  a  low 
ridge,  the  trail  twisted  into  view  of  Crockett's, 
the  major  halted  to  look  back  over  his  command, 
still  tripping  steadily  onward  in  little  bunches, 
each  a  dozen  strong,  each  followed  by  its  own 
little  dust-cloud,  each  independent,  apparently,  of 
the  others,  yet  moving  as  part  of  one  harmonious 
train.  Foremost,  the  group  at  the  head  of  column 
had  received  accessions.  Fuller,  the  sutler,  finely 
150 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

mounted  and  bristling  with  arms  of  the  latest  and 
most  approved  pattern,  backed  by  two  sun-tanned 
Texans  from  his  ranch,  had  overtaken  the  com 
mand  at  noon,  bent  on  sharing  its  fortunes  in  the 
tussle  anticipated  with  the  outlaws;  anol  they 
were  now  riding  with  "head-quarters,"  from 
which,  on  the  other  hand,  two  figures  were  miss 
ing, — Lawrence  and  one  of  the  orderlies.  As 
early  as  two  o'clock  the  ex-captain  had  pushed 
on  ahead,  a  double  object  in  view,  to  warn 
Cramer's  troop  of  the  coming  of  the  Worth  com 
mand  and  the  tidings  they  bore  of  the  Friday 
gang,  also  to  have  a  little  party  mount  at  once  and 
gallop  northeast,  ten  miles  to  the  Saba  trail, — a 
short  cut  from  Worth  to  the  San  Saba  Pass,  used 
by  horsemen  in  the  rainy  season.  Captain  Cramer 
might  or  might  not  have  received  warning  of  the 
appearance  of  the  gang  in  the  valley  below  his 
camp  at  the  Springs;  but  the  "Fridays,"  whoever 
their  leader,  would  certainly  have  friends  and 
confederates  on  the  watch  near  Worth,  friends 
who  would  probably  take  that  very  short  cut  and 
gallop  at  speed  to  warn  the  gang  of  the  coming 
vengeance.  Oddly  enough,  it  was  not  Brooks  nor 
Lawrence  who  was  first  to  think  of  this,  but  Bar 
clay.  It  was  his  modest  suggestion  at  the  noon 
halt,  a  suggestion  that  was  put  in  form  of  a  ques 
tion,  that  had  opened  the  major's  eyes.  "I  re- 


152  A    TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

member,  sir,"  said  he,  "that  the  Springs  lie  in  a 
sort  of  elbow;  the  trail  runs  nearly  east  and  west 
for  many  miles  beyond  them,  and  nearly  north 
and  south  on  this  side.  Is  there  no  way  in  which 
scouts  could  gallop  across  our  left  and  give  warn 
ing  to  those  fellows  ?" 

"By  Jove!"  said  Brooks,  "there's  the  old  San 
Saba  cut-off.  What  had  we  better  do,  Law 
rence?"  And  Lawrence  said,  "Send  at  once  a 
sergeant  with  a  set  of  fours  to  the  left,  until  they 
cut  the  trail,  in  order  to  prevent  information  go 
ing  to  the  gang  that  way,  and  to  report  if  any 
horsemen  have  already  passed,  which  latter  any 
old  frontiersman  can  tell  at  a  glance."  Mullane, 
lurching  drowsily  in  saddle  all  through  the  last 
stage,  had  thrown  himself  on  the  turf  and  gone 
sound  asleep  the  moment  the  column  halted. 
Only  with  extreme  difficulty  could  he  be  aroused 
and  made  to  understand  what  was  wanted.  Mr. 
Winn,  standing  silently  by,  turned  his  back  on 
his  temporary  commander.  He  knew  the  Irish 
captain  was  well-nigh  swamped  with  liquor,  and 
he  had  no  wish  to  bear  witness  against  him. 
Those  were  days  so  close  to  the  war  that  officers, 
old  and  new,  still  thought  more  of  what  a  man 
had  done  than  of  what  he  was  doing,  and  Mul- 
lane  had  been  a  gallant  trooper.  "You  'tind 
to  it,  sergeant,"  was  again  the  Irishman's  com- 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

prehensive  order  to  his  first  sergeant  when  at  last 
he  grasped  the  significance  of  Brooks's  words,  and 
five  horsemen  rode  away  at  the  lope  to  the  left 
front  the  moment  the  column  again  mounted. 
Again  did  Brooks  see  fit  to  caution  his  leading 
troop  commander.  "I  am  afraid  you  have  sam 
pled  that  whiskey  once  too  often,  Mullane.  ]STo 
more  of  it  now,  or  you'll  go  to  pieces  when  you 
are  most  needed/7  he  muttered,  then  rode  on  to 
the  head  of  column. 

And  the  prediction  came  true.  At  the  very 
next  halt  Mullane  had  fallen  into  a  stupor  so 
heavy  that  it  was  found  impossible  to  rouse  him. 
The  assistant  surgeon  with  the  column  made  brief 
examination,  then  unslung  and  removed  the  can 
teen  at  the  captain's  pommel,  and  whispered  his 
conclusion, — "Better  leave  his  horse  and  orderly 
here  with  him." 

"Then,"  said  the  major,  briefly,  "Winn,  you 
command  i  I,'  Troop."  And  when  again  the  col 
umn  mounted,  Barclay  rode  back  and  directed  his 
leading  section  to  incline  to  the  right,  so  that  they 
passed  the  lonely  little  group,  the  two  horses 
placidly  cropping  at  the  scant  herbage,  the  or 
derly  squatting  with  averted  face,  filled  at  once 
writh  shame  and  sympathy,  the  recumbent  figure 
sprawled  upon  the  prairie,  its  bloated  red  visage 
buried  in  the  blue-sleeved  arms.  Barclay's  rear- 


154  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

ward  sections  instinctively  followed  the  lead,  and 
only  furtive  glances  were  cast,  and  no  audible 
comments  made.  The  ranks  were  full  of  tough 
characters  in  those  days,  yet  imbued  with  a 
strange  fidelity  in  certain  lines  that  reminds  one 
of  the  dog  immortalized  by  Bret  Harte  at  Red 
Gulch, — the  dog  that  had  such  deep  sympathy  for 
a  helplessly  drunken  man.  There  was  nothing  in 
their  code  to  prevent  their  stealing  from  Uncle 
Sam,  their  captain,  or  any  other  victim,  but  to 
hint  that  an  officer  or  a  friend  was  drunk  would 
have  been  the  height  of  impropriety. 

Winn,  not  Mullane,  therefore,  led  "The 
Devil's  Own,"  as  Mullane's  troop — together  with 
others,  no  doubt — had  been  appropriately  desig 
nated.  Barclay  followed  at  the  head  of  "D." 
When  nearing  Crockett  Springs  at  five  o'clock,  a 
dim  speck  of  courier  came  twisting  out  upon  the 
trail  to  meet  them,  and  Brooks  long  after  recalled 
the  thought  that  came  to  him  as  he  read  the  de 
spatch  that  reached  him  there.  It  was  from  Law 
rence  : 

"  Cramer  got  wind  of  the  gang  early  this  morn 
ing,  followed  with  thirty  men  into  the  San  Saba, 
had  sharp  fight,  lost  three  men  and  many  horses, 
and  is  corralled  out  there,  about  fifteen  miles 
southeast.  Cramer  himself  wounded,  Dr.  Augus- 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  155 

tin  killed.  Courier  says  most  of  Friday  gang 
gone  to  San  Saba  Pass.  You,  of  course,  must 
push  on  to  save  Pennywise  and  his  money.  I 
take  five  men  and  horses  here  and  hasten  to  pull 
Cramer  out  of  the  hole.  Think  you  now  justified 
in  attacking  gang  wherever  found.  No  doubt 
who  were  Cramer's  assailants.  Expect  to  reach 
him  before  six  and  have  one  more  square  fight 
out  of  Texas.  Hastily, 

"  L." 

"By  heaven,"  cried  Brooks,  as  he  turned  to 
Fuller  and  the  little  party  riding  with  him,  all 
studying  his  face  with  anxious  eyes,  "it's  lucky 
we  got  here  with  our  horses  in  good  shape. 
Cramer  is  in  a  scrape  somewhere  out  in  the  Kange. 
Lawrence  has  gone  to  his  aid,  and  there'll  only  be 
time  for  a  bite  at  Crockett's;  then  we  must  push 
on  and  go  ahead  to  the  Pass."  Then,  dropping 
into  thought,  "  Now,  which  of  Laura  Waite's  vic 
tims  will  most  welcome  a  square  fight, — the  man 
she  wronged  by  dropping,  or  the  man  she  wronged 
by  taking?" 

Two  hours  later,  refreshed  by  cooling  draughts 
from  the  brook  that  bubbled  away  from  the 
Springs,  their  nostrils  sponged  out,  their  saddles 
reset,  their  stomachs  gladdened  by  a  light  feed, 
the  horses  of  the  two  troops  seemed  fit  for  a 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

chase,  despite  their  sixty-mile  inarch  since  dawn. 
A  courier,  galloping  ahead,  had  borne  Brooks's 
directions  that  coffee  should  be  ready  for  his  men, 
and  Cramer's  camp  guard  had  found  time  to  add 
substantial  to  that  comforting  fluid.  ^Only  half 
an  hour  did  the  major  delay,  but  even  in  that 
time  the  horses  had  a  quick  rub-down  with  wisps 
of  hay,  and  the  men  themselves  swung  into  sad 
dle  with  an  air  that  seemed  to  say,  "  There's  fun 
ahead!"  The  sun  was  shining  aslant  from  low 
down  in  the  western  sky  as  the  column  once  more 
jogged  away  on  the  dusty  trail,  Barclay's  troop 
now  in  the  lead,  opening  out  just  as  it  had 
marched  most  of  the  day,  while  Winn,  between 
whom  and  the  new  captain  there  had  passed  a  few 
courteous  yet  rather  formal  words  at  one  or  two 
of  the  halts,  gave  to  Mullane's  old  first  sergeant 
the  charge  of  the  leading  section,  and  himself 
rode  at  the  distant  rear  of  column,  for  by  dusk, 
if  at  all,  straggling  would  be  likely,  and  strag 
gling  would  have  to  be  suppressed  with  a  firm 
hand.  The  sun  was  at  their  backs  now:  away  to 
the  front  lay  the  rift  in  the  hills  through  which 
wound  the  San  Saba  road,  and  off  to  the  right 
front,  well  to  the  southeast,  somewhere  among 
those  jagged  bluffs  just  beginning  to  tinge  with 
£old  about  their  sharp  and  saw-like  crests,  lay  the 
scene  of  Cramer's  morning  tussle  with  the  out- 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  157 

laws,  who,  as  all  now  realized,  must  have  opened 
on  him  from  ambush  and  shot  down  several  horses 
and  not  a  few  men  before  the  troopers  could  re 
ply.    No  further  news  had  come  from  him,  how 
ever.     The  courier  who  brought  the  first  news 
said  he  had  to  run  the  gauntlet,  although  only  a 
few  of  the  gang  seemed  to  be  hanging  about  the 
scene  of  the  fight, — their  main  body,  as  he  had 
previously  reported,  having  gone  in  the  direction 
of  the  Pass.    Brooks  well  knew  that  the  moment 
he  reached  the  foot-hills  he  would  have  to  move 
with  caution,  throwing  out  advanced  guards  and, 
where  possible,  flankers.    He  knew  that  He  would 
need  every  man,  and  believed  that  Cramer's  peo 
ple,  now  that  Lawrence  had  gone  to  join  them, 
could  take  care  of  themselves;   but  the  courier's 
story,  told  to  eager  ears,  had  "  told"  in  more  ways 
than  one.    His  description  of  the  ambuscade,  the 
way  Cramer,  the  doctor,  Sergeant  O'Brien,  and 
others  at  the  head  of  column  were  tumbled  at  the 
first  fire,  all  had  tended  to  make  the  head  of 
Brooks's  column  an  unpopular  place  to  ride, — at 
least  less  popular  than  earlier  in  the  day.    Fuller 
and  his  men  decided  that  their  horses  would  be 
the  better  for  an  hour  or  two  of  rest  at  the  can 
tonment,  and  so  the  column  moved  on  without 
them. 

Longer  grew  the  shadows  and  loftier  the  range 


158  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

far  to  the  front,  as  once  more  the  pace  quickened 
to  the  trot,  and  Brooks  and  his  men  jogged  on. 
The  doctor,  a  gifted  young  practitioner  whom 
Collabone  held  in  high  regard,  seemed  still  to 
think  that  he  should  have  been  allowed  to  take 
an  orderly  and  his  instruments  and  gallop  out  on 
Lawrence's  trail  to  the  aid  of  Cramer's  wounded. 
"Then  what  is  to  become  of  mine?"  asked  the 
major,  calmly.  "  I'm  sorry  for  Cramer,  sorry  his 
doctor  is  killed,  but  we  may  need  you  any  moment 
more  than  he  does.  No,  Lawrence  has  gone  to 
him;  he'll  do  what  he  can  to  make  the  wounded 
comfortable,  leave  a  small  guard  with  them,  and 
then  guide  the  rest  of  Cramer's  troop  through  the 
range  to  the  San  Saba,  join  either  Pennywise's 
party  or  ours,  and  between  us  we  ought  to  give 
those  fellows  a  thrashing  they'll  never  forget, — 
if  only  they'll  stand  and  take  it, — if  only,"  he 
added  below  his  breath,  "  they  don't  lay  for  us  in 
some  of  those  deep  twisting  canons  where  twenty 
men  could  overthrow  a  thousand." 

The  doctor  admitted  the  force  of  his  superior's 
argument,  and  said  no  word.  All  the  same,  how 
ever,  his  eyes  kept  wandering  off  from  time  to 
time  towards  the  foot-hills  at  the  southeast,  now 
turning  to  violet  in  shade,  "  like  half -mourning," 
said  the  doctor  to  Galahad,  as,  only  half  content, 
he  dropped  back  to  ride  a  few  moments  at  the 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  159 

latter's  side.  "And  it  won't  be  long/'  lie  added 
to  himself,  "before  they'll  be  shrouded  in  deep 
black.  Pray  God  there's  no  ill  omen  in  that!" 

And  now  the  road  began  to  rise,  very  slowly, 
very  gently  as  yet,  but  perceptibly,  towards  the 
still  distant  range.  The  long,  spindle-shanked 
shadows  of  the  horses  had  disappeared.  The  sun, 
yellow-red,  was  just  sinking  below  the  horizon 
through  the  dust-clouds  in  their  wake,  when  one 
of  the  foremost  troopers,  close  at  Barclay's  heels, 
muttered,  "It's  somethin'  movin',  anyhow,  and 
what  is  it  if  it  ain't  a  horse?"  And  Barclay  and 
the  doctor,  turning  in  saddle,  caught  his  eye.  "  I 
seen  it  a  minute  ago  away  out  yonder  towards 
them  buttes,"  continued  the  soldier,  pointing  out 
across  the  prairie  to  their  right  front,  "and  I 
couldn't  be  sure  then.  It's  comin'  this  way,  what 
ever  it  is,  cornin'  fast.  Look,  sir!  There  it  is 
again!" 

And  with  all  their  eyes  Barclay  and  the  doctor 
gazed,  but  could  see  no  moving  object.  Only  the 
rolling  prairie,  growing  darker,  dimmer  every 
minute,  only  the  sun-tipped  ridge  and  buttes  and 
shining  pinnacles  far  away  towards  the  San  Saba. 
And  still  the  relentless  trot  went  on,  and  the  ma 
jor's  head  was  never  turned;  yet  his  orderly,  too, 
was  ducking  and  peering  from  time  to  time  off 
to  the  southeast,  just  where  the  trooper  had 


160  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

pointed.  Barclay,  cautioning  his  sergeant  to  keep 
a  steady  trot,  spurred  forward,  the  doctor  follow 
ing. 

"What  do  you  see?"  they  asked,  and  the  or 
derly  too  stretched  forth  a  grimy  gauntlet. 

"Thought  I  saw  a  horse,  sir.  Some  of  'K' 
Troop's,  maybe,  for  there  was  no  rider." 

With  this  corroborative  evidence,  Barclay 
hailed  the  major.  "  Major,  may  I  send  a  man  or 
two  out  in  that  direction?"  he  asked.  "Two  of 
our  people  report  seeing  a  horse  galloping  this 
way." 

But,  even  as  he  spoke,  over  a  distant  divide, 
popping  up  against  the  sky  just  long  enough  to 
catch  the  eyes  of  half  a  dozen  men  at  once,  a 
black  dot  darted  into  view  and  then  came  bound 
ing  down  the  long,  gradual  incline,  looming 
larger  and  larger  as  it  ran;  presently  the  body 
and  legs  could  be  made  out,  and  then  the  sweep 
ing  mane  and  tail, — a  riderless  horse,  a  cavalry 
horse  probably,  coming  at  eager  speed  to  join  his 
comrade  creatures  in  the  long  column.  Cavalry- 
horse  undoubtedly,  as,  bounding  nearer  and 
nearer,  the  flapping  rein,  the  dangling,  black- 
hooded  stirrups,  the  coarse  gray  blanket,  and  the 
well-known  saddle  could  be  distinguished,  a  grue 
some  sight  to  trooper  eyes,  harbinger  of  disaster 
if  not  of  death  in  almost  every  case, — a  cavalry 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

charger  riderless!  And  at  last,  as  with  piteous 
neigh  the  laboring  steed  came  galloping  straight 
way  on,  a  cry  went  up  from  two  or  three  soldier 
throats  at  the  instant,  a  wail  of  soldier  sorrow: 
"  God  save  us,  fellows !  it's  Blarney — it's  the  colo 
nel's  own!"  Officers  and  men,  they  swarmed 
about  the  weary,  panting,  trembling  creature,  as 
hope  died  in  every  heart  at  what  they  saw:  the 
saddle  and  blanket,  the  old  overcoat,  rolled  at  the 
pommel,  that  so  often  had  stood  between  Ned 
Lawrence  and  the  Texas  gales,  were  all  dripping 
with  blood,  yet  Blarney  had  never  a  scratch. 


11 


CHAPTEE  XII. 

THE  moon  was  throwing  black  shadows  into  the 
deep  cleft  in  the  San  Saba,  where  the  Crockett 
trail  twisted  along  beside  the  swift-running  rivu 
let,  that  rose  in  the  heart  of  the  hills  and  bub 
bled  merrily  away  until  lost  in  the  westward  val 
ley  and  the  brook  that  found  its  source  at  the 
springs  far  out  under  the  foot-hills  towards  the 
Bravo.  Slowly,  wearily,  warily,  half  a  dozen 
troopers  on  jaded  horses  were  feeling  their  way 
up  the  pass,  a  veteran  corporal  full  thirty  yards 
ahead  of  his  fellows  leading  on.  "With  the  ad 
vance  rode  an  officer  whose  shoulder-straps,  gleam 
ing  on  the  shell  jacket  sometimes  worn  in  the 
mounted  service  immediately  after  the  war, 
seemed  almost  too  bright  and  new  to  accord  with 
the  dust-grimed  chevrons  and  trimmings  of  his 
comrades.  ISTew  and  brilliant,  too,  were  the  hilt 
and  scabbard  of  the  sabre  that  dangled  by  his  side. 
New  and  "green"  the  men  of  his  command  had 
believed  him  to  be,  in  cavalry  matters  at  least, 
when  first  he  joined  them  some  weeks  before,  but 
the  most  casehardened  old  customer  among  their 
seasoned  troopers  had  abandoned  that  view  before 
162 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

ever  they  started  on  this  scout  after  a  gang  of 
notorious  outlaws,  and  now  a  new  and  very  dif 
ferent  theory  was  grinding  its  way  into  their  tired 
brains, — that  the  "Doughboy  Dragoon/'  as  they 
had  earlier  dubbed  him^  "  Captain  Gallyhad,"  as 
one  of  them  heard  he  was  called,  could  give  them 
points  in  covering  the  front  of  a  column  that  were 
worth  knowing,  even  if  they  had  been  learned  in 
a  doughboy  regiment  and  among  the  Sioux.  It 
would  be  a  smart  "Friday''  that  managed  to  am 
buscade  old  Brooks's  column  that  cloudless,  moon 
lit,  breezeless  night,  for,  with  that  veteran's  full 
consent,  as  well  as  to  his  infinite  relief,  Captain 
Barclay  had  himself  gone  forward  with  the  ad 
vance  the  moment  they  began  to  wind  in  among 
the  hills,  and  there  at  the  post  of  danger  he  had 
held  his  way,  alert  and  vigilant,  despite  long  hours 
in  saddle  that  had  told  heavily  on  more  than  half 
the  command,  calm  and  brave  despite  the  fact 
that  their  welcome  to  the  westward  portal  of  the 
Pass  was  the  sight  of  poor  Blarney  running  to 
them  for  shelter,  sympathy,  and  companionship, 
covered  with  the  blood  of  his  beloved  rider. 

And  what  was  that  rider's  fate?  It  was  now 
almost  eleven  o'clock,  and  no  man  knew.  Only 
briefly  had  they  halted  and  flocked  about  the 
panting  steed,  for  stern  was  the  need  that  held 
them  to  their  course.  "With  awe-stricken  faces 


1(54  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

and  compressed  lips  they  looked  into  each  other's 
eyes,  as  though  to  ask,  What  next?  Who  next? 
The  major,  tender-hearted  as  a  woman,  well-nigh 
choked  with  distress  and  anxiety  as  he  turned  to 
Barclay  for  counsel;  and  long  before  the  rear 
most  of  the  column  had  reached  the  spot  the  de 
cision  had  been  made.  The  leaders  were  again 
pushing  on.  Young  Brayton,  with  half  a  dozen 
troopers,  had  been  despatched  southwestward 
along  the  falda,  ordered  to  search  high  and  low 
for  Lawrence,  dead  or  alive.  There  was  only 
one  theory, — that,  pushing  eagerly  ahead  to  the 
relief  of  Cramer's  crippled  troop,  the  gallant  ex- 
captain  had  taken  no  thought  of  personal  danger; 
the  old  instinct  of  leadership  had  possessed  him, 
and,  foremost  of  his  little  squad,  he  had  been 
picked  off  by  lurking  bushwackers  of  the  outlaws, 
crouching  like  Indians  in  the  shelter  of  the  rocks, 
and  had  fallen  another  victim  of  their  desperado 
efforts.  "One  more  fight  in  Texas,"  indeed. 
Poor,  brave,  warm-hearted  Ned!  That  one  more 
fight,  reported  in  Washington  by  an  indulgent 
department  commander,  might  bring  about  im 
mediate  measures  for  his  restoration  to  the  army; 
but  was  it  worth  the  risk?  Was  it  worth  what 
might  befall  those  motherless  children,  praying 
for  father  hour  after  hour  that  livelong  day1? 
Should  it  have  been  permitted,  had  there  been 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

any  one  to  prevent,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  no 
longer  was  there  soldier  duty  to  lead  him  on? 
The  government  had  released  him  from  all  that, 
had  bidden  him  go.  It  had  no  further  use  for  the 
services  of  such  as  he;  it  had  turned  him  loose 
upon  the  world,  with  heavy  stoppages  against  the 
stipulated  bonus.  "  Oh,  what  right  had  he,"  cried 
Brooks,  "to  forget  those  babies  back  at  Worth, 
well  knowing  as  he  must  that  no  man's  life  is 
worth  a  hair  in  front  of  the  rifles  of  that  outlaw 
gang,  much  less  an  enemy  such  as  Lawrence  has 
shown  himself  to  be?"  The  major's  heart  and 
head  were  heavy  as  once  more  the  order  forwajd 
was  given.  With  every  inclination  to  turn  from 
his  course  with. his  entire  command,  to  hasten  in 
search  of  Lawrence's  little  party  and  Cramer's 
halted  men,  he  well  knew  that  should  the  pay 
master  and  his  precious  thousands  fall  into  the 
outlaw  hands  of  the  Friday  gang  he  would  be 
held  responsible,  even  though  San  Saba's  canton 
ment  sent  with  him  a  force  of  forty  men. 

Once  within  the  jaws  of  the  Pass,  the  little  de 
tachment  had  closed  on  the  head  of  column,  the 
advance  guard,  Barclay's  leading  section,  riding 
on  and  dispersing  itself  under  his  instructions, 
while  Brooks  held  the  other  sections  until  Winn's 
men  were  all  closed  up,  bringing  with  them  the 
little  squads  that  had  scouted  towards  the  short 


166  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

cut  of  the  San  Saba  and  had  found  no  living 
soul  in  sight,  yet  had  followed  fresh  hoof-tracks 
coming  their  way  for  miles.  Whoever  they  were, 
the  scouts  of  the  gang  were  well  ahead;  whoever 
he  was,  "Friday77  by  this  time  knew  the  troops 
were  coming.  Then,  with  the  flankers  scouring 
the  slopes  well  out  to  right  and  left  wherever 
possible,  Brooks's  main  body  too  had  entered  the 
winding  defile  and  was  lost  in  the  bowels  of  the 
earth. 

At  eleven  o'clock  a  watcher,  gazing  back  into 
the  broad  shallow  depression  in  which  lay  Crock 
ett's,  and  then  northward  to  the  low-lying  hills 
along  the  trail  to  Worth,  could  have  seen  no 
gleam  of  light  far  or  near  that  would  speak  of 
human  habitation  or  life  or  movement,  no  sign, 
in  fact,  of  life  of  any  kind ;  yet  no  sooner  was  the 
last  shadowy  form  of  horse  and  trooper  swallowed 
up  in  the  black  gloom  of  the  defile,  no  sooner  had 
the  last  faint  click  of  iron-shod  hoofs  died  away 
in  the  hidden  distance,  than  there  slowly  rose 
from  behind  the  shelter  of  a  clump  of  rocks,  far 
out  to  the  right  of  the  trail,  a  crouching  figure 
that  went  almost  on  all-fours  to  the  edge  of  the 
rivulet,  slunk  away  down  the  bank,  dodging 
swiftly,  softly,  from  boulder  to  boulder,  until  it 
disappeared  around  a  little  shoulder  of  bluff  five 
hundred  yards  away,  was  lost  to  view  a  moment, 


A   TIfOOPER   GALAHAD.  167 

then  reissued  into  the  moonlight,  this  time  in 
saddle,  swinging,  cowboy  fashion,  a  riata  about 
its  head  as  it  rode.  Spinning  up  the  slopes  and 
out  of  the  stream-bed,  away  it  went,  careering  up 
the  billowy  rise  to  the  south,  and  was  presently 
lost  to  view  a  second  time  behind  some  castellated 
rocks  along  the  crest.  Three  minutes  more,  and 
these  began  to  glow  along  their  eastward  face  with 
the  light  of  some  unseen  fire  that  flared  for  per 
haps  a  minute  somewhere  about  the  hidden  base 
of  the  group,  and  then,  far  away  to  the  southeast, 
far  out  among  the  buttes  and  knolls  in  the  heart 
of  the  range,  there  was  a  sudden  flash  of  brilliant 
light,  just  as  though  some  one  had  touched  off  in 
front  of  a  reflector  a  pound  or  so  of  rifle  powder. 
The  hills  for  one  second  were  lighted  up,  then  as 
suddenly  relapsed  into  gloom.  The  blaze  at  the 
ledge  so  close  at  hand  was  promptly  doused,  and 
the  night  rolled  on,  calm,  placid,  and  unbroken. 

When  the  first  streak  of  dawn  crept  into  the 
orient  sky,  Barclay's  shadowy  scouts  were  issuing 
from  the  San  Saba  on  the  farther  side  and  halt 
ing  for  the  coming  of  the  main  body.  Neither 
those  who  led  the  advance  nor  those  out  on  either 
flank,  where  flankers  were  at  all  possible,  had  seen 
a  sign  of  outlaw,  cowboy,  even  of  human  being, 
outside  their  own  array.  ISTot  only  had  the  Fri 
day  gang  vanished  from  the  neighborhood  of  the 


168  A    TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

Pass,  but,  what  was  most  mysterious,  not  a  sign 
had  appeared  of  paymaster  or  escort,  who  were 
due  at  Crockett's  early  this  very  morning. 
Brooks,  picking  out  the  lightest  rider  in  his  weary 
column,  sent  him  on  the  liveliest  horse  to  warn 
Pennywise  and  his  escort,  provided  he  could  find 
him  at  the  San  Saba  camp,  of  what  had  taken 
place,  notify  him  that  they  would  here  await  his 
coming,  and  meantime  ordered  dismount,  unsad 
dle,  and  graze,  and  in  two  minutes  every  charger 
was  divested  of  his  load,  and  many  of  them  were 
kicking  and  rolling  on  the  turf. 

Twenty-four  hours  had  the  command  been  in 
saddle,  except  for  the  required  halts  and  a  long 
two  hours  during  the  dead  of  night,  when  leading 
their  wearied  steeds  or  crouching  beside  them  at 
rest,  while  Barclay  and  his  scouts  explored  the 
overhanging  heights  and  listened  eagerly  for 
sound  of  coming  troopers  from  the  eastward.  But 
for  the  waning  moon  there  would  have  been  hours 
of  total  darkness.  Ninety  miles,  all  told,  had 
they  travelled,  and  now,  wearied  though  they 
were,  nine  out  of  ten  of  the  men  were  chafing 
with  wrath  that  the  wily  gang  had  managed  to 
escape  them.  Whither  were  they  gone,  and 
where  on  earth  was  the  paymaster,  were  the  ques 
tions.  Certainly  not  through  the  Pass,  for  there 
were  no  fresh  hoof-prints.  Could  it  be  that, 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

balked  in  their  plan  to  overwhelm  the  escort  by 
this  coming  of  at  least  an  equal  force,  the  gang 
had  turned  back  angered  and  thrown  themselves 
on  Cramer's  crippled  party  with  the  view  of  get 
ting  away  with  the  horses,  arms,  and  equipments  ? 
Certainly  none  of  Cramer's  people  had  made  their 
way  by  the  game  trails  over  the  range  to  join 
them,  but  there  was  reason  for  that:  Lawrence 
had  never  succeeded  in  reaching  Cramer. 

Sad,  wearied,  and  depressed,  Major  Brooks 
seated  himself  on  a  saddle-blanket  to  take  counsel 
with  his  officers,  now  reduced  to  three, — Barclay, 
Winn,  and  the  doctor.  He  missed  Mullane, 
stanch  old  fighter  that  he  was,  for  Mullane  knew 
most  of  the  country  thoroughly,  and  had  been 
posted  for  months  at  the  Rio  San  Saba,  now  only 
some  twenty  miles  to  the  east.  He  sorely  missed 
Lawrence,  for  on  him  he  had  often  leaned.  He 
was  beginning  to  take  vast  comfort  in  Barclay,  to 
be  sure,  but  now  Barclay,  Winn,  the  doctor,  men 
and  horses,  the  entire  command,  in  fact,  had 
come  to  a  stand-still.  There  was  no  use  in  going 
farther  east ;  there  the  country  was  comparatively 
open  and  rolling,  and  the  gang  would  hardly  dare 
attack  forty  troopers  on  the  wide  prairie.  Be 
sides,  the  nearest  water  in  that  direction  was 
twenty  miles  away;  the  little  rivulet  rising  in  the 
heart  of  the  hills  was  ten  miles  behind  them,  and 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

already  horses  were  thirsting  and  men  emptying 
their  canteens.  Blankly  the  major  stared  up  into 
Barclay's  drawn  and  almost  haggard  face.  "  Can 
you  think  of  anything  we  ought  to  do?"  he  asked, 
and,  in  asking,  Brooks  was  a  far  better  soldier 
than  the  man  who,  having  exhausted  his  own  re 
sources,  thought  it  infra  dig.  to  invite  suggestions 
from  his  juniors. 

"Just  one,  sir.  Sergeant  McHugh  tells  me  he 
once  came  out  here  hunting  with  Captain  Mul- 
lane,  and  that  they  took  a  light  spring  wagon 
right  over  the  range  southeast  of  Crockett's,  the 
way  Cramer  went.  It  is  a  much  longer  way 
round,  but  a  more  open  way.  The  trail  must  lie 
some  eight  or  ten  miles  off  here  to  the  south,  or 
west  of  south.  Could  it  be  that  the  gang  only 
started  from  the  place  of  Cramer's  ambuscade  as 
though  to  go  to  the  Pass  and  then  veered  around 
again  and  covered  that  trail,  and  for  some  reason 
have  been  expecting  the  paymaster  that  way  after 
all?" 

"Worn  and  weary  as  he  was,  Brooks  staggered 
to  his  feet  at  once,  his  face  going  paler  still.  "  By 
heaven,  Barclay,  if  that's  possible,  they've  had 
uninterrupted  hours  in  which  to  deal  with  Penny- 
wise  already!  It  is  possible,"  he  added,  with 
misery  in  the  emphasis  of  his  tone.  "  I  remember 
having  heard  of  that  trail,  but  never  thought  it 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

practicable  for  an  ambulance.  Then  there  is 
work  before  us  yet.  Call  Sergeant  McHugh,"  he 
cried.  The  word  was  passed  among  the  wearied 
groups,  where,  squatting  or  lying,  the  men  had 
thrown  themselves  upon  the  ground,  and  pres 
ently,  rubbing  his  red  eyes,  a  stocky  little  Irish 
sergeant  came  trudging  up  to  his  commander  and 
silently  touched  the  visor  of  his  worn  old  cap. 

"  Can  you  guide  us  by  the  shortest  route  from 
here  to  the  trail  you  spoke  of  to  Captain  Barclay?" 
asked  the  major. 

Mac  turned  and  gazed  away  southwestward 
along  the  line  of  the  San  Saba  hills. 

"  I  don't  think  we  could  miss  it,  sir,  if  we  fol 
lowed  the  foot-hills." 

"  Then  we  must  try  it,"  said  Brooks,  decidedly, 
half  turning  to  the  silent  officers  as  he  spoke. 
"Let  the  horses  graze  ten  minutes  more  and  get 
all  the  dew  and  grass  they  can,  then  we'll  push  for 
it." 

And  so,  just  before  five,  hungry,  weary,  and 
weak, — some  of  the  men  at  least, — the  little 
squadron  clambered  into  saddle  and  once  more 
moved  away.  No  need  to  leave  any  one  to  say 
which  way  they'd  gone;  the  trail  showed  all  that. 
Silently  they  headed  for  the  broad  valley  of  the 
Bravo,  miles  away  to  the  invisible  west.  Once 
across  a  little  rise  in  the  falddj  Brooks  struck  the 


172  A    TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

slow  trot  lie  had  learned  long  years  before  from 
the  beloved  major  of  his  old  regiment,  and  dog 
gedly  the  column  took  it  up  and  followed.  Not 
a  mile  had  they  gone  when  the  sun  came  peering 
up  over  the  heights  far  in  their  wake;  for  a  few 
minutes  the  dew  flashed  and  sparkled  on  the  turf 
before  it  died  beneath  that  fiery  breath,  and  still 
no  man  spoke.  Sound  sleep  by  night,  a  cold 
plunge  at  dawn,  and  the  hot  tin  of  soldier  coffee 
send  the  morning  tongues  of  a  column  en  route 
"  wagging  like  sheep's  tails,"  say  the  troopers,  but 
it  takes  a  forced  all-night  march,  following  an  all- 
day  ride,  followed  by  a  morning  start  without 
either  cold  plunge  or  hot  coffee,  to  stamp  a  column 
with  the  silence  of  a  Quaker  meeting.  Let  no  man 
think,  however,  the  fight  is  out  of  its  heart,  unless 
he  is  suffering  for  a  scrimmage  on  any  terms. 
Men  wake  up  with  a  snap  at  sound  of  the  first 
shot;  dull  eyes  flash  in  answer  to  the  bugle  chal 
lenge,  and  worn  and  wearied  troopers  "take  a 
brace"  that  means  mischief  to  the  foe  at  the  first 
note  that  tells  of  trouble  ahead.  Just  two  miles 
out  there  came  the  test  to  Brooks's  men,  and  there 
was  none  so  poor  as  to  be  found  wanting. 

Two  miles  out,  and  the  column  woke  up  at  the 
cry,  "  Yon  comes  a  courier  I"  and  coming  he  was, 
"  hell  to  split,"  said  Sergeant  McHugh,  from  afar 
off  over  the  rolling  prairie  to  the  southwest.  Five 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

minutes  brought  him  within  hail, — a  corporal 
from  the  camp  on  the  Rio  San  Saba,  on  foaming 
horse,  who  came  tugging  at  both  reins,  sputtering 
and  plunging,  up  to  the  head  of  column,  and 
blurted  out  his  news.  "I  thought  you  was  the 
escort,  sir, — the  paymaster's  escort.  They  left 
camp  at  nine  last  night,  and  at  two  this  morning 
Corporal  Murphy  got  back,  shot,  and  said  they 
were  corralled  in  the  hills  on  the  old  trail.  The 
captain  is  coming  along  with  twenty  men,  and 
sent  me  ahead.  They  must  be  ten  miles  from 
here  yet,  sir." 

"The  paymaster,  or  the  captain?"  asked 
Brooks,  his  heart  beating  hard,  but  his  face  im 
perturbable. 

"Both,  sir,  I  reckon;  one  one  way  and  the 
other  the  other." 

Then  Brooks  signalled  over  his  shoulder. 
"We've  got  to  gallop,  Barclay.  It's  neck  or 
nothing  now."  And  some  horses  even  then  were 
drooping  at  the  trot. 

Six  o'clock  now.  Six  miles  from  the  eastward 
mouth  of  the  Pass,  and  spurs  were  plying  here 
and  there  throughout  the  column,  for  many  found 
their  horses  lagging  sorely.  Barclay  on  his 
splendid  blooded  bay  was  far  out  to  the  front,  the 
corporal  courier  with  him,  for  theirs  were  the 
only  mounts  that  could  stand  another  forcing  of 


174  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

the  pace.  Rearward,  three  or  four  horses,  ex 
hausted,  were  being  gathered  up  by  a  burly  ser 
geant,  and  with  their  weary  riders  led  slowly 
along  the  trail.  Six-fifteen: — "Barclay  and  his 
corporal  were  but  dots  along  the  falda  now,  and 
moving  swiftly.  Then  at  a  higher  point,  in  plain 
view,  one  dot  began  circling  to  the  left  at  speed. 
Every  man  knew  what  that  meant,  and  the  signal 
was  answered  by  another  spurt.  The  sun  was  tell 
ing  at  last.  The  dew  had  dried,  but  along  the  turf 
there  was  but  little  dust  to  rise,  and  Brooks  could 
keep  most  of  his  men  together.  Far  off  to  the 
left,  all  eyes  could  see  now  the  sign  that  told  that 
rival  rescuers  were  gaining.  The  little  squad 
from  the  San  Saba  camp  came  spurring  along  the 
beaten  trail,  betrayed  by  the  cloud  of  dust  that 
rose  above  them.  Young  Connolly,  the  guidon- 
bearer  of  Barclay's  troop,  unfurled  his  color  and 
set  it  flapping  in  the  rising  breeze  in  trooper  chal 
lenge;  and  down  the  column  set  and  haggard 
faces  lighted  up  with  the  gleam  of  soldier  joy. 
It  was  to  be  a  race, — a  race  to  the  rescue.  Six- 
thirty,  and  over  a  low  ridge  went  Brooks  and 
"YVinn,  close  followed  by  their  orderlies;  far  away, 
midway  up  the  opposite  slope,  stretched  a  slender, 
twisting,  traversing  seam, — the  winding  trail  to 
Crockett's.  The  black  dots  in  the  lead  were  now 
three  in  number,  darting  towards  two  others, 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  175 

black  dots,  too,  some  four  miles  away  and  to  the 
right  front,  right  in  among  the  hills.  "Keep  it 
up,  lads!  the  quicker  to  water  and  rest!77  are  the 
major's  words  now,  and  spurs  set  home  again, 
despite  equine  grunts  in  protest.  Six-forty,  and 
the  dots  in  front  are  blacker  and  bigger  and  pop 
ping  about,  three  of  them,  at  least,  in  lively  mo 
tion,  checking  suddenly,  then  darting  to  and  fro, 
and  the  cry  bursts  from  the  leader's  lips,  "By 
God,  they're  at  it!  E"ow,  lads,  for  all  you're 
worth,  come  on!"  Six-forty-five,  and,  rounding 
a  projecting  spur,  a  shoulder  from  the  range, 
Brooks,  Winn,  and  the  doctor  burst  in  view  of  a 
scene  that  banishes  the  last  thought  of  weariness. 
Barely  a  mile  or  so  away,  a  rocky  ledge  lies  be 
yond  and  parallel  with  the  trail.  Its  jagged  crest 
is  spitting  smoke  and  fire.  Its  smoother  slopes, 
towards  the  east,  are  dotted  in  places  by  the  bodies 
of  dead  or  dying  horses,  and  in  places,  too,  by 
other,  smaller  forms,  apparently  stiff  and  motion 
less.  Off  the  trail,  as  though  dragged  there  by 
affrighted  and  agonized  animals,  lies  an  over 
turned  ambulance,  its  six  draught-mules  out 
stretched  upon  the  turf  about  it ;  so,  too,  are  other 
quadrupeds,  troop-horses  evidently.  "Well  back 
of  the  ruined  wagon,  some  trusty  soul  has  rallied 
the  remaining  troop-horses,  while  most  of  their 
riders,  sprawled  upon  the  turf  or  behind  impro- 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

vised  rifle-pits,  stick  manfully  to  their  duty. 
"Friday's"  ambuscade,  in  the  still  hours  of  the 
night,  has  cost  the  government  heavily  in  horses, 
men,  and  mules,  but  old  Pennywise's  precious 
safe  is  guarded  still,  and  every  rush  the  outlaws 
make  to  get  it  is  met  by  relentless  fire.  Six-fifty, 
and,  leaving  on  the  field  six  outlawed  forms  that 
will  never  fight  again,  the  baffled  relics  of  the 
Fridays  are  scurrying  away  into  the  fastnesses  of 
the  range  before  the  labored  rush  and  sputtering 
fire  of  Brooks's  men,  and  Galahad,  with  his  cor 
poral  comrade,  far  in  the  lead,  gets  the  last  com 
pliments  of  the  departing  gang.  Another  gallant 
horse  goes  down,  and  Galahad's  for  the  time  goes 
free,  his  rider  falling  fainting  from  exhaustion 
and  loss  of  blood. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

OLD  Frazier's  face  was  sad  to  see  when,  two 
days  later,  all  the  harrowing  details  of  that  night's 
work  were  received  at  Worth.  Hours  before,  in 
answer  to  courier  from  Crockett's,  Dr.  Collabone, 
with  steward,  attendants,  and  such  ambulances 
as  there  were,  had  been  put  en  route  for  the 
Springs.  Two  other  troops  had  been  hurried  to 
the  field,  and  Mrs.  Blythe,  with  streaming  eyes, 
was  straining  to  her  heart  two  motherless  chil 
dren,  now  orphaned  by  that  "one  more  square 
fight  in  Texas."  Gallant  Ned  Lawrence!  Far 
on  the  way  to  Cramer's  bewildered  force  they 
found  his  body,  shot  from  ambush  through  and 
through  in  two  places.  Yet,  said  his  weeping 
orderly,  he  had  clung  to  the  saddle  nearly  a  mile. 
Oh,  the  wrath  at  Department  Head-Quarters  and 
along  the  line  of  posts  and  camps  against  that 
gang,  made  up,  as  so  many  knew  it  must  be  made, 
mainly  of  the  thugs  and  deserters  offscoured  from 
the  army  in  days  when  moral  character  as  vouched 
for  was  no  requisite  before  enlistment!  Among 
the  dead  upon  the  field  was  found  the  body  of  a 

once  trusted  sergeant  of  Lawrence's  troop;    but 
12  177 


178  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

the  other  outlaws  were  Mexicans  or  jailbirds, 
strange  to  the  soldiers  who  turned  them  curiously 
over.  Pennywise,  scared  half  to  death  and  dread 
fully  shaken  by  the  capsizing  of  his  wagon,  was 
otherwise  unscathed;  his  clerk  was  shot,  his 
driver  sorely  wounded;  two  of  the  San  Saba  es 
cort  were  killed,  and  others  hit.  Brooks,  with 
Captain  Haines  from  the  San  Saba,  pushed  on 
until  at  noon  he  reached  Cramer's  people,  now 
reinforced  by  Fuller  and  his  men  and  by  the 
shame-stricken  Mullane.  By  nightfall  his  ex 
hausted  horses  were  drinking  their  fill  from  the 
stream.  The  two  wounded  officers,  Barclay  and 
Cramer,  with  half  a  dozen  troopers,  were  being 
made  as  comfortable  as  possible. 

By  dawn  of  the  next  day  Mullane's  pleading 
had  overpowered  Brooks,  whose  heart  was  wrung 
at  the  contemplation  of  such  unrequited  losses, 
and,  taking  Lieutenant  Winn  and  forty  troopers 
with  him,  the  Irish  captain,  given  a  chance  as  he 
prayed  to  redeem  himself,  marched  away  west 
ward  from  the  cantonment  at  Crockett's,  bent  on 
overtaking  the  outlaws  in  the  Apache  mountains, 
whither  they  had  gone,  burdened  by  half  a  dozen 
wounded,  so  said  the  one  prisoner,  who,  unable 
to  bear  the  torment  of  jolting  along  on  horseback 
with  an  arm  bullet-smashed  at  the  elbow,  had 
begged  to  be  left  behind.  He  was  a  mere  boy, 


A    TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

whose  elder  brother  had  been  for  years  a  fugitive 
from  justice  and  of  late  a  prominent  member  of 
the  gang,  and  it  was  by  the  side  of  that  mortally 
wounded  ruffian  they  found  the  youngster  weep 
ing,  more  from  grief  than  from  pain,  only  a  mile 
away  from  the  scene  of  the  second  ambuscade. 

Verily  the  men  who  planned  those  death-traps 
were  masters  of  their  villanous  trade !  "  Concen 
trate  all  your  first  shots  on  the  officers,"  were  the 
instructions;  "get  them  down,  and  the  men  will 
be  helpless  as  sheep."  Cramer,  his  doctor,  and 
his  first  sergeant  had  fallen  at  the  first  fire,  and 
that  little  command  was  paralyzed.  Vigilant 
bushwackers,  schooled  for  years  in  Indian  fight 
ing,  watching  the  Crockett  trail  against  the 
coming  of  other  leaders,  had  easily  recognized 
Lawrence  as  he  rode  galloping  on  at  the  head  of 
his  half-dozen,  and  the  "one  more  square  fight" 
proved  but  a  one-sided  affair  after  all.  Poor  Ned 
knew  he  had  his  death-wounds  at  the  instant,  yet 
whipped  out  his  revolver  and  ordered,  "Charge!" 
and  charge  they  did  upon  the  scattering,  cowardly 
crew  that  fled  before  them  on  their  fresh  horses 
until  the  trooper  leader  tumbled  from  his  saddle, 
dead  without  a  groan;  and  then,  at  safe  distance, 
his  assassins  turned  and  jeered  their  helpless  pur 
suers.  How  the  veterans  of  "  D"  Troop  clustered 
about  their  old-time  captain's  lifeless  form  that 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

night,  and,  weary  though  they  were  after  forty 
hours  of  sleepless  chase  and  scout  and  battle,  im 
plored  the  major  to  let  them  start  at  once  upon 
the  outlaws'  trail!  The  same  tactics  that  had 
halted  Cramer's  men  and  murdered  Lawrence  had 
been  played  on  the  escort  from  San  Saba.  Bid- 
dling  the  ambulance  at  the  first  volley,  yet  in  the 
dim  moonlight  missing  the  lieutenant  command 
ing,  who  happened  to  be  riding  at  the  moment  on 
the  flank  of  his  column  instead  of  at  the  head,  the 
sudden  volley  felled  a  sergeant,  but  left  the  sub 
altern  full  of  fight,  and  he  rallied  his  temporarily 
stampeded  troopers  not  four  hundred  yards  away, 
and  charged  back  on  the  Fridays  with  a  splendid 
dash  that  drove  them  helter-skelter  to  the  rocks. 
Then,  dismounting,  he  had  stood  them  off  su 
perbly  until  rescue  came. 

Not  for  another  forty-eight  hours  could  old 
Pennywise  be  induced  to  go  on  to  Worth. 
Though  there  was  reassurance  in  the  fact  that  the 
Fridays  were  scattered  over  far  Western  Texas  by 
that  time  (some  never  stopping,  as  it  turned  out, 
until  safe  from  pursuit  beyond  the  Bravo),  the 
veteran  money-changer's  nerve  was  sorely  shaken. 
He  had  not  half  the  pluck  of  his  punctured  clerk, 
who,  though  shot  by  a  Henry  rifle  bullet  through 
the  left  arm  and  across  the  breast  outside  the  ribs, 
declared  himself  fit  to  take  even  a  hot  and  feverish 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

drive  and  go  with  the  payment.  Fuller  and  his 
ranchmen  stuck  manfully  to  that  much  desired 
safe,  and  announced  their  intention  of  protecting 
the  paymaster  at  all  hazards.  The  wounds  of 
Cramer  and  Barclay  had  been  most  skilfully 
treated  by  the  young  doctor  before  Collabone 
reached  them;  thanks  to  the  perfect  habits  and 
vigorous  constitution  of  the  latter,  there  was 
nothing  to  prevent  his  transportation  by  easy 
stages  back  to  Worth  at  the  end  of  the  week,  and 
thither  he  seemed  strangely  eager  to  go.  Thitner 
they  had  borne  the  remains  of  poor  Lawrence,  and 
there  with  all  military  honors  had  they  buried  all 
that  was  mortal  of  the  loved  yet  luckless  comrade. 
There,  her  own  heart  sorely  wrung,  Mrs.  Blythe 
was  doing  her  utmost  to  comfort  weeping  Ada, 
whose  burly  little  brother  was  fortunately  too 
young  to  feel  the  desolation  of  their  position. 
But,  flat  on  his  back,  Barclay  had  pencilled  to  the 
loving-hearted  woman  a  little  note  that  bore  her  a 
world  of  comfort,  despite  the  suffering  imposed 
by  a  mandate  to  reveal  its  contents  to  no  one  but 
her  husband;  for  when  a  woman  has  news — good 
news,  great  news — to  tell,  a  husband  falls  far 
short  of  the  demands  of  the  situation. 

Barclay's  wound  had  been  dangerous  at  the 
time,  mainly  because  the  bullet  had  grazed  an 
artery  below  the  knee  and  brought  on  profuse 


•j_g2  4   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

bleeding  that,  unnoticed  in  the  excitement  of  the 
running  fight,  sapped  him  of  his  strength  and 
left  him  swooning;  but  Collabone  and  his  assist 
ant  declared  it  healing  perfectly  and  that  not  even 
a  limp  would  remain  to  betray  It.  One  week 
from  the  day  of  the  spirited  skirmish  in  which  he 
had  played  so  prominent  and  gallant  a  part,  Sir 
Galahad  was  lifted  into  the  ambulance  and  started 
for  Worth  at  the  very  moment  the  general  com 
manding  the  department  was  forwarding  to  Wash 
ington  his  report  of  the  affair,  urgently  recom 
mending  the  bestowal  of  a  brevet  upon  the  new 
captain  of  "D"  Troop  and  a  pension  upon  the 
children  of  his  whole-souled,  hapless  predecessor; 
but,  coupling  his  recommendations  with  ill-con 
sidered  yet  natural  reference  to  the  injustice  with 
which  Captain  and  Brevet  Lieutenant-Colonel 
Lawrence  had  been  treated,  he  succeeded  only  in, 
entombing  the  paper  in  some  private  pigeon-hole, 
whence  it  was  resurrected  long  months  ^after,  too 
late  to  be  of  use. 

After  the  manner  of  the  army,  the  garrison  at 
Worth  had  ceased  all  outward  sign  of  mourning 
by  the  time  Barclay  reached  the  post,  and  almost 
everybody  was  ready  to  devote  himself  or  her 
self  to  the  amelioration  of  his  condition.  Mrs. 
Frazier,  with  a  motherly  eye  to  business,  had 
lost  no  time  in  urging  upon  her  liege  the  pro- 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

priety — indeed,  the  imperative  necessity — of 
his  riding  out  to  meet  the  wounded  officer  and 
moving  him  at  once  under  the  shelter  of  their 
roof.  Amanda  could  and  should  give  up  he*- 
room  (she  was  only  too  glad  to),  and  the  girls 
could  sleep  together;  then  the  mother  and  daugh 
ters  would  have  sole  charge  of  the  nursing  of  this 
most  eligible  young  man.  What  might  not  be 
accomplished  by  such  a  matron  and  such  dear 
girls  under  such  exceptional  circumstances?  In 
deed,  Frazier  was  given  to  understand  that  he 
must  do  it,  for  if  Barclay  was  allowed  to  return 
to  his  own  quarters  right  next  door  to  the  Whins' 
— and  Mr.  Winn  away — who  could  say  what 
couldn't  be  said? — what  wouldn't  be  said? 
"Everybody  knew  that  Laura  Winn  had  been 
doing  her  best,"  said  Mrs.  Frazier,  "to  reset 
her  nets  and  lure  her  whilom  lover  within  the 
meshes,"  and  this  would  give  her  opportunities 
immeasurable.  Frazier  had  a  sleepless  night  of 
it.  He  could  not  combat  his  wife's  theories, 
though  he  would  not  admit  the  truth  of  all  she 
asserted.  "But,"  said  he,  "everybody  will  see 
through  the  scheme  at  a  glance." 

"I  don't  care  if  they  do.  I  don't  care  what 
they  say,"  said  his  energetic  and  strategic  spouse. 
"The  end  justifies  the  means.  Something  must 
be  done  for  the  girls  you've  buried  out  here  in 


184  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

this  wilderness.  As  for  Laura  "Winn,  better  a 
sneer  at  my  precautions  than  a  scandal  for  lack 
of  them." 

But  Frazier  remonstrated:  "Barclay  isn't  the 
man  to  get  mixed  up  in  a  scandal/7  said  he. 

"But  Laura  Winn  wouldn't  flinch  at  it,"  said 
she,  "and  it's  the  way  the  woman  acts — not  the 
man — that  sets  people  talking;"  wherein  was 
Mrs.  Frazier  schooled  beyond  the  sphere  in  which 
she  moved.  At  her  bidding,  Frazier  sent  for 
young  Brayton,  who  had  marched  back  with  the 
detachment  not  sent  in  chase,  told  him  of  Mrs. 
Frazier' s  benevolent  plans  for  his  captain's  com 
fort,  and  suggested  that  such  of  Barclay's  things 
as  he  might  need  be  sent  over  beforehand, — "so 
as  to  have  everything  ready,  you  know." 

The  youngster  looked  embarrassed,  said  he 
would  attend  to  it,  but  immediately  sought  Major 
Brooks,  who  was  doing  a  good  deal  of  resting  at 
the  time.  "  What  am  I  to  say  to  Colonel  Frazier, 
sir?"  he  asked.  "The  colonel  tells  me  Mrs.  Fra 
zier  has  a  room  all  ready  for  Captain  Barclay  and 
wishes  me  to  send  over  a  lot  of  things,  and  I  have 
a  message  from  the  captain  saying  he  will  proba 
bly  arrive  day  after  to-morrow  and  to  have  his 
room  ready;  and,  he  adds,  in  case  any  one  plans 
to  put  him  elsewhere,  to  decline  in  his  name." 

"Oh,  wise  young  judge!"  growled  Brooks  to 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  135 

himself.  Every  day  was  adding  to  his  respect  for 
Galahad. 

"I  can't  decline  the  commanding  officer's  invi 
tation,  can  I,  sir?"  asked  Brayton,  in  conclusion. 

"No,  you  can't  with  safety,"  said  the  major, 
"  but  I'll  speak  to  Collabone—  No,"  he  added, 
abruptly,  as  he  reflected  that  Mrs.  Frazier  might 
eventually  hear  of  it,  Collabone  being  a  man  who 
knew  no  guile  and  told  everybody  anything  he 
knew.  "No.  You  tell  Collabone  what  the  cap 
tain  wishes,  and  let  him  fix  it."  And  so  between 
the  three  it  was  arranged,  through  the  couriers  at 
that  time  going  back  and  forth  every  day,  that 
Barclay  should  be  notified  of  the  honor  in  store 
for  him.  And  notified  he  was,  and  gravely  passed 
the  letter  over  to  ^Esculapius  Junior. 

"  Help  me  out  of  this,  doctor,  in  some  way,"  he 
said.  "I  wish  to  be  nobody's  guest."  And  so, 
when  old  Frazier  did  actually  mount  a  horse  and, 
with  Amanda  in  a  stylish  habit  beaming  at  his 
side,  did  actually  ride  forth — the  first  time  he'd 
been  in  saddle  in  a  year — and  meet  Barclay's  am 
bulance  full  a  thousand  yards  out  from  the  post, 
and  bade  him  thrice  welcome  to  the  room  they 
had  prepared  for  him,  Barclay  beamed  back  his 
thanks  and  appreciations,  and  bade  the  colonel 
believe  he  would  never  forget  his  kindness  and 
Mrs.  Frazier's,  but  that  he  had  every  possible  com- 


186  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

fort  awaiting  him  at  his  own  quarters,  and  could 
never  consent  to  incommoding  Mrs.  Frazier  or 
the  young  ladies.  Indeed,  the  doctor  had  made 
other  and  very  different  plans  for  him, — as  in 
deed  the  doctor  had.  And  Frazier  rode  back 
vaguely  relieved,  yet  crestfallen.  He  knew  Bar 
clay  and  the  doctor  were  right.  He  knew  he 
himself  shrank  from  such  throwing  of  his  daugh 
ters  at  a  fellow's  head ;  and  then  he  quailed  at  the 
thought  of  Mrs.  Frazier's  upbraidings,  for  she, 
honest  woman,  felt  it  a  mother's  duty  to  provide 
for  her  precious  lambs,  the  more  so  because  their 
father  was  so  culpably  indifferent,  if  not  shame 
fully  negligent. 

A  balked  and  angered  woman  was  Mrs.  Frazier 
at  the  captain's  politely  veiled  refusal  to  come  and 
be  nursed  and  captured  under  her  roof.  Tartaric 
acid  tinged  the  smiles  of  her  innocent  children 
the  next  few  days,  and  if  ever  there  was  a  time 
when  it  behooved  Laura  Winn  to  be  on  her  guard 
and  behave  with  the  utmost  reserve  as  regarded 
her  next-door  neighbor,  it  was  here  and  now.  She 
could  have  read  the  danger  signal  in  the  Fraziers' 
greeting  at  parade  that  very  evening,  as,  most  be 
comingly  attired,  she  strolled  languidly  down  the 
line  at  the  side  of  ^sculapius  Junior,  who,  after 
seeing  his  patient  comfortably  stowed  in  bed, 
came  forth  to  find  her  on  the  piazza,  full  of  sym- 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

pathetic  interest  and  eager  to  know  what  she 
could  do  or  make  or  have  made  in  the  way  of  ap 
petizing  dainties  for  the  sufferer.  Nor  did  she 
let  him  free  until  he  found  refuge  in  the  midst 
of  the  deeply  interested  group  in  front  of  the 
colonel's  quarters. 

This  was  Tuesday  evening,  and  only  Brooks, 
Blythe,  and  Brayton  were  permitted  to  intrude 
upon  the  invalid  after  the  long  hours'  trundle 
over  the  prairie  roads.  On  the  morrow  the  pay 
master  was  to  take  his  ambulance,  escort,  and 
emptied  safe  on  the  back  track  to  Crockett's,  and 
Barclay  was  to  be  allowed  to  see  Mrs.  Blythe; 
but,  for  the  night,  rest  and  quiet  were  enjoined. 
In  answer  to  his  queries,  he  was  told  that  the 
latest  news  reported  Mullane,  "Winn,  and  Bral- 
ligan  scouring  the  Apache  range,  while  Captain 
Haight,  with  forty  men,  was  patrolling  towards 
the  Bravo.  The  post  was  flush  with  money.  Pul 
ler's  bar  was  doing  a  rousing  business,  and  Lieu 
tenant  Trott,  guarding  the  stores  turned  over  by 
Winn,  was  wondering  when  and  in  what  shape 
the  money  value  of  the  stores  not  turned  over  was 
to  be  paid  to  him,  for  the  time  was  past,  Winn 
was  far,  far  away,  no  package  of  money  had  come 
for  him,  and  Mrs.  Winn  calmly  said  it  was  no 
affair  of  hers  and  she  had  no  knowledge  when  or 
by  what  hand  it  would  be  forthcoming.  It  .was 


188  &   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

conceded  at  Worth  that,  in  view  of  tEe  danger  in 
which  her  husband  stood,  both  afield  and  at  home, 
more  anxiety  and  less  adornment  would  better 
have  become  the  lady,  as  she  outshone  all  other 
women  present  when  the  line  of  infantry  officers 
broke  ranks  at  dismissal  of  parade. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A  WEEK  rolled  by,  a  week  little  Jim  Lawrence 
and  other  small  boys  long  remembered  for  the 
good  things  they  had  to  eat  and  drink;  and  now 
Galahad  was  sitting  up  again  at  his  quarters,  do 
ing  very  well,  said  both  doctors,  so  well  that  he 
could  be  out  on  the  shaded  piazza  in  a  reclining 
chair,  said  Brayton, — but  wouldn't,  said  Blythe, 
— and  for  good  reasons,  said  the  Fraziers  fem 
inine,  "  because  then  there'd  be  no  dodging  Laura 
Winn,  if,  indeed,  he  has  succeeded  thus  far." 
True,  he  had  not  ventured  outside  his  doors,  an5 
no  one  had  seen  her  venture  within  them.  True, 
Mrs.  Frazier,  Mrs.  Blythe,  and  other  motherly 
women  had  been  to  visit  him, — Mrs.  Frazier  fre 
quently, — and  Mrs.  Winn  had  been  most  particu 
lar  in  her  daily  inquiries, — "most  persistent," 
said  the  Frazier  girls.  Those  were  days  in  which 
milk  was  a  luxury  in  far-away  Texas,  but  the  deli 
cate  custards,  whips,  creams,  and  what  the  colo 
nel's  Hibernian  orderly  described  as  "floating 
Irelands,"  which  that  messenger  bore  with  Mrs. 
Frazier7  s  love,  or  Miss  Frazier's  compliments,  or 

Miss  'Manda  Frazier' s  regards  and  hopes  that  the 

189 


190  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

captain  was  better  this  morning,  could  be  num 
bered  only  by  tHe  passing  days.  What  Mrs.  Fra- 
zier  was  prepared  to  see  or  hear  of  was  similar 
attention  on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Winn;  but  Mrs. 
Winn's  attentions  took  a  form  more  difficult  to 
see,  and,  even  in  a  frontier,  old-time  garrison,  to 
hear  of. 

What  Mrs.  Frazier  was  not  prepared  to  see  was 
Mrs.  Blythe  in  frequent  confidential  chat  with 
the  officer  whom  the  colonel's  wife  chose  to  con 
sider  her  own  invalid.  She  had  always  fancied 
Mrs.  Blythe  before,  but  now  she  met  her  with 
that  indescribable  tone  suggestive  of  unmerited 
yet  meekly,  womanfully  borne  injury,  which  is 
so  superior  to  either  explanation  or  resentment. 
Mrs.  Winn  was  frequently  on  her  piazza  chatting 
with  Mr.  Bray  ton  or  Dr.  "Funnybone,"  as  the 
wits  of  the  post  had  designated  Collabone's  right 
bower,  "who  has  more  brains  in  one  head/7  said 
Collabone,  "than  the  mess  has  in  ten;"  but  she 
greeted  Mrs.  Frazier  with  an  austere  and  distant 
dignity  even  more  pronounced  than  Mrs.  Frazier's 
manner  to  Mrs.  Blythe,  which  plainly  showed 
that  Laura  had  not  "been  raised  in  the  army  for 
nothing,"  and  that  she  had  a  will  and  temper  and 
pluck  that  would  brook  no  airs  and  tolerate  no 
aspersions  on  Mrs.  Frazier's  part.  Aspersions 
there  had  been,  for  her  friend  Mrs.  Faulkner  had 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

not  failed  in  that  sisterly  duty  which  so  many 
women  so  reluctantly  yet  faithfully  perform,  and 
everything  Mrs.  and  the  Misses  Frazier  had  even 
hinted,  and  some  things  they  even  hadn't,  were 
duly  conveyed  to  Laura's  ears.  She  was  angered 
at  the  Fraziers  for  daring  to  say  such  things,  at 
Mrs.  Faulkner  for  daring  to  repeat  them,  and  at 
Barclay  for  daring  to  keep  her  beyond  the  possi 
bility  of  their  being  true.  Never  before  had  she 
known  what  it  was  to  strive  for  a  look  or  word  of 
admiration  and  to  meet  utter  indifference.  Yet 
those  blue  eyes  of  Barclay's  had  once  fairly 
burned  with  passionate  delight  in  her  girlish 
beauty,  and  his  words  had  trembled  with  their 
weight  of  love  for  her.  ~No  other  woman,  she 
believed,  had  yet  come  into  his  life  and  banished 
all  memory  of  her;  and,  now  that  her  beauty  was 
but  the  riper  for  her  years,  she  rebelled  in  her 
soul  against  the  whisper  that  it  could  no  longer 
move  him. 

Wedded  though  she  was  to  Harry  Winn,  loving 
him  after  the  fashion  of  her  shallow  nature  so 
long  as  there  was  no  man  at  the  post  from  whom 
she  sought  to  exact  homage,  she  had  time  and 
again  within  the  year  felt  towards  her  husband  a 
sense  of  injury.  What  business  had  he  had  to 
woo  her  if  he  was  so  poor?  What  right  had  he 
to  subject  her  to  the  annoyance  of  dunning  let- 


A   TROOPER  GALAHAD. 

ters,  of  suggestive  inquiries  on  the  part  of  her 
neighbors?  Why  should  she  submit  to  parsimo 
nious  skimping  and  cheese-paring,  to  living  with 
only  one  servant  when  several  other  women  had 
two,  to  all  the  little  shifts  and  meannesses  poor 
Harry  had  declared  to  be  necessary?  It  was  his 
business  to  provide  for  her  needs.  Her  father 
had  always  supported  her  in  style;  why  couldn't 
Harry  do  the  same?  True,  she  knew  when  she 
married  him  he  had  nothing  but  his  pay.  He 
told  her  everything,  but  she  had  never  taken 
thought  for  the  morrow,  though  she  had  taken 
perhaps  too  much  thought  of  what  she  should 
wear  or  eat  or  drink.  Laura  loved  the  good  things 
of  this  life,  and  had  been  freely  indulged  through 
out  her  petted  girlhood;  and  now,  in  the  days 
when  every  woman  seemed  turning  against  her, 
purse,  cellar,  and  larder  were  empty  and  her  hus 
band  gone  on  a  stupid  foray  to  the  mountains. 
None  could  say  when  he  would  return,  or  what 
new  sorrow  would  meet  him  then.  Other  men 
managed  to  earn  money  or  make  money  some 
how  outside  their  pay.  "Why  should  sh'e,  whose 
tastes,  she  said,  were  so  much  more  refined,  be 
mated  with  one  who  could  only  spend? 

There  is  a  time  when  many  a  homely  face  be 
comes  radiant  with  a  beauty  too  deep  for  sallow 
skin  or  heavy  features  to  hide,  and  when  a  really 


A  TROOPER  GALAHAD. 

winsome  face  becomes  well-nigh  angelic;  but, 
even  as  Laura  Winn  bent  over  her  sleeping  child 
or  nestled  the  unconscious  little  one  in  her  bosom, 
the  sullen  fire  of  discontent,  thwarted  ambition, 
and  wounded  self-love  smouldered  in  her  deep, 
slumberous  eyes.  There  were  hours  now  when 
Baby  Winn  was  left  to  the  scant  care  of  the 
household  nurse,  while  the  mother  took  the  air 
upon  the  piazza  during  the  day  or  flitted  about 
from  parlor  to  parlor  along  the  row  at  night.  She 
was  restless,  nervous,  as  all  could  see.  She  fre 
quently  assailed  Brayton  with  queries  for  news, 
always  decorously  asking  first  if  couriers  had  come 
or  were  expected  from  the  command  afield,  yet 
speedily  coming  back  to  the  real  object  of  her 
constant  thoughts,  the  now  much  honored  officer, 
her  next-door  neighbor.  For  three  days  after  he 
was  pronounced  able  to  sit  up  she  did  not  succeed 
in  seeing  him  at  all,  though  so  many  other  and, 
it  should  be  explained,  much  older  women  did; 
but  that  did  not  abate  one  whit  her  determination 
that  he  should  speedily  see  her. 

Just  what  her  object  was  she  herself  could  not 
have  told.  It  was  an  instinct,  an  impulse,  a  whim, 
perhaps;  but  he  who  had  been  her  lover  and  was 
rejected  had  dared  to  gaze  into  her  face  with  eyes 
serene  and  untroubled,  had  met  her  but  half- 
veiled  references  to  old  days  with  polite  but  posi- 
13 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

tive  indifference.  She  had  nothing  to  ask  of  him, 
she  told  herself;  she  meant  no  disloyalty  to 
Harry,  no  wrong  of  any  kind.  Not  a  bit  of  it! 
She  had  treated  Barclay  very  badly.  She  had 
done  him  a  wrong  that  was  much  greater  in  her 
own  estimation  than  it  was  in  that  of  any  one  of 
her  neighbors,  among  whom  the  women,  at  least, 
considered  the  loss  of  his  inamorata  a  blessing  in 
disguise;  but  Laura  fully  believed  that  Barclay's 
heart  must  have  been  crushed  in  the  depth  of  his 
woe,  and  that  it  was  now  her  duty  to  make  friends 
again, — perhaps  in  some  way  to  console  him;  not, 
of  course,  in  any  way  to  which  Harry  could  ob 
ject,  not,  of  course,  in  any  way  to  which  the  post 
ought  to  object,  but — well,  even  to  herself,  as  has 
been  said,  she  could  not  entirely  and  satisfactorily 
explain  her  motives;  it  was  impossible,  therefore, 
that  she  could  hope  to  do  so  to  anybody  else;  and 
yet  she  had  dared  to  write  to  him.  It  was  only 
a  little  note,  and  yet,  with  all  its  inconsistencies, 
it  said  so  much: 

"DEAR  CAPTAIN  BARCLAY, — I  cannot  tell  you 
my  distress  at  hearing  of  your  again  being  se 
verely  wounded,  especially  at  a  time  when  I  had 
hoped  to  have  you  meet  and  better  know  my  hus 
band,  but  now  in  his  distressing  absence  I,  who 
more  than  any  woman  at  this  post  am  anxious  to 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

show  my  sympathy  and  sorrow,  am  practically 
helpless.  Do  tell  me  if  there  is  anything  I  can 
do, — though  I  am  sure  I  can't  see  what  is  left  for 
me,  with  no  cook  or  kitchen,  and  Mrs.  Frazier  and 
the  Misses  Frazier  sending  such  loads  of  things. 
I  really  envy  them  and  Mrs.  Blythe  the  privilege 
of  their  years  in  going  to  see  you  personally,  for 
am  I  not  at  least 

"  Your  oldest  friend,  "  L.  W." 

This  ingenuous  note  was  sent  by  Hannibal  at 
an  hour  when  the  captain  was  alone,  and  when, 
had  he  been  disposed,  he  might  have  hobbled  to 
the  door  and  answered  in  person;  but  hobble  he 
did  not,  nor  did  he  answer  until  after  long 
thought.  He  received  the  little  missive  with  sur 
prise,  read  it  without  a  tremor  of  hand  or  lip,  but 
with  something  of  shame  and  pity  that  overspread 
his  face  like  a  cloud.  Was  he  only  just  beginning 
to  know  her,  after  all  ? 

"Pray  do  not  give  my  scratch  a  thought,"  he 
answered,  in  writing,  late  that  afternoon,  "and 
believe,  my  dear  Mrs.  Winn,  that  I  have  every 
comfort  that  one  can  possibly  desire.  Every  one 
is  most  kind.  I  expect  to  be  out  with  my  men  in 
a  week,  and  shall  be  delighted  to  take  the  field 
and  send  Mr.  Winn  back  to  you  forthwith. 

"Most  sincerely." 


196  A   TROOPER  GALAHAD, 

And  that  was  how,  with  polite  but  positive  in 
difference,  he  had  treated  her  reference  to  old 
times  and  old  friends.  Shallow  as  she  was,  Laura 
Winn  was  deep  enough  to  see  that  he  meant  to 
hold  himself  far  aloof  from  her.  He  could  hardly 
have  told  her  more  plainly  he  would  have  none 
of  her.  He  had  even  dared  to  say  it  would  be 
a  pleasure  to  go,  that  he  might  send  her  husband 
back  to  her  arms.  And  this  was  the  man  she  once 
thought  she  loved,  the  man  who,  she  believed, 
adored  her  and  would  never  outlive  the  passion 
of  his  sorrow  at  losing  her! 

Even  now  the  foolish  heart  of  the  woman  might 
have  accepted  its  lesson;  but  it  was  time  for 
friends  again  to  come,  and,  as  Laura  expressed  it, 
"pry  and  prod  and  preach,"  and  that  brought  on 
a  climax. 

Mrs.  Faulkner  had  dropped  in  and  dropped  out 
again,  and  Laura,  who  seemed  forever  going  to 
the  porch  these  days,  followed  and  called  her 
back. 

"  One  thing  you  said  I  don't  understand,"  she 
began,  and  Mrs.  Faulkner's  pretty  face  showed 
plainly  there  had  been  something  of  a  storm. 

"  I  said  this,  Laura,"  her  friend  responded,  per 
mitting  her  to  go  no  further,  but  turning  at  the 
step  and  looking  up  into  her  indignant  eyes. 
"You  do  yourself  injury  by  showing  such  con- 


A   TROOPER  GALAHAD. 

cern  about  Captain  Barclay.  Everybody  says  so, 
and  it's  all  wasted  as  far  as  lie's  concerned.  He 
never  notices  your  messages  in  any  way." 

It  was  galling  to  feel  herself  censured  or  criti 
cised,  but  Mrs.  Winn  was  becoming  used  to  that. 
It  was  worse  than  galling  to  be  told  that  her 
whilom  lover  now  turned  from  her  almost  with 
contempt.  She  could  bear  it  that  they  should 
say  that  Galahad  Barclay  was  again  circling 
within  danger  of  her  fascinations  and  would 
speedily  find  himself  powerless  to  resist.  She 
could  not  bear  it  that  they  should  declare  him 
dead  to  her.  The  anger  ablaze  in  her  eyes  and 
flushing  her  cheeks  was  something  even  Mrs. 
Faulkner  had  never  seen  before.  It  was  as  though 
she  had  roused  some  almost  tigerish  trait.  For 
a  moment  Laura  stood  glaring  at  her  visitor,  one 
hand  nervously  clutching  at  the  balcony  rail,  the 
other  at  the  snugly  buttoned  bodice  of  her  dark 
gown.  At  that  instant  the  door  of  Barclay's 
quarters  opened  and  the  sound  of  glad  voices  pre 
ceded  but  a  second  or  two  the  appearance  of 
feminine  drapery  at  the  threshold.  Mrs.  Brooks 
came  backing  into  view,  chatting  volubly  with 
some  one  still  invisible.  Mrs.  Frazier  came 
sidling  after,  and  then  as  they  reached  the  open 
air  the  deep  tones  of  their  invalid  host  were  heard 
mingling  with  the  lighter,  shriller,  if  not  exactly 


198  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

silvery  accents  of  his  visitors.  One  glance  they 
threw  towards  the  young  matron  at  the  opposite 
end  of  the  piazza,  and  then  it  seemed  as  though 
Mrs.  Frazier  promptly  precipitated  herself  into 
the  doorway  again,  as  though  to  block  it  against 
Barclay's  possible  egress.  "Determined  not  to 
let  him  see  me,  nor  me  him,"  were  the  unspoken 
words  that  flashed  through  Laura's  thoughts. 
Some  devil  of  mischief  seemed  to  whisper  in  her 
ear,  for  when  Mrs.  Faulkner  turned  again,  there 
stood  her  hostess  holding  forth  for  her  inspection 
a  little  note  addressed  to  Mrs.  H.  H.  Winn  in  a 
hand  Mrs.  Faulkner  recognized  at  once  as  that 
of  Barclay.  With  an  icy  sneer  the  irate  lady 
spoke : 

"  You  think  he  doesn't  write.  This  came  only 
an  hour  ago." 

Not  five  minutes  later  Mrs.  Frazier  turned  to 
Mrs.  Faulkner  and  asked,  "What  was  Laura 
Winn  showing  you? — a  letter?" 

Mrs.  Blythe  was  passing  at  the  moment,  Ada 
Lawrence,  a  tall,  pallid  slip  of  a  girl,  in  her  first 
black  dress,  walking  sadly  at  her  side.  Mrs. 
Faulkner  nodded  assent  to  the  question,  but 
glanced  significantly  at  the  passers-by,  on  their 
way  seemingly  to  the  house  the  elders  had  just 
left.  Mrs.  Blythe  bowed  courteously  and  smiled, 
but  the  smile  was  one  of  those  half-hearted  at- 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  ^99 

tempts  that  seemed  to  wither  instantly  at  Mrs. 
Frazier's  solemn  and  distant  salutation. 

"Now  what's  that  woman  taking  Ada  Law 
rence  there  for?"  was  Mrs.  Frazier's  query  the 
instant  the  two  were  out  of  earshot,  and  for  the 
moment  she  forgot  the  letter  and  the  significant 
glance  in  Mrs.  Faulkner's  eyes.  But  Mrs.  Brooks 
had  not,  and  no  sooner  had  the  door  of  Barclay's 
quarters  opened  and  swallowed  up  the  new  callers 
than  the  major's  wife  turned  back  to  it. 

"You  don't  mean  a  letter  from — him?"  she 
asked,  with  a  nod  of  the  head  at  Barclay's  quar 
ters. 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  say  anything  about  it,"  said 
Mrs.  Faulkner,  with  proper  hesitation,  "but  you 
seem  to  know  as  much  as  I  do,  and  she  made  no 
secret  of  it  whatever.  Indeed,  I  don't  know  that 
there's  anything  in  it  that  anybody  mightn't  see." 

"I  think  she  has  no  business  whatever  receiv 
ing  letters  now  that  her  husband's  away — nor  any 
other  time,  for  that  matter,"  said  Mrs.  Frazier, 
hotly;  "and  I  mean  to  tell  her  so;  and  I'm  as 
tonished  at  him." 

"For  heaven's  sake  don't  tell  her  I  let  it  out!" 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Faulkner.  "You've  just  got  to 
say  you  saw  it  away  from  his  door." 

"Well,  I  think  the  sooner  Mr.  Harry  Winn 
gets  back  the  better  it  will  be  for  this  garrison, 


200  A-   TROOPER  GALAHAD. 

and  I'll  say  so  to  Colonel  Frazier  this  very  night/' 
exclaimed  the  colonel's  wife,  bristling  with  proper 
indignation.  "And  he'll  come  back,  if  we  have 
to  send  couriers  to  order  him." 

But  no  courier  was  needed  to  summon  Lieu 
tenant  Winn.  Two  days  later,  fast  as  jaded  horse 
could  carry  him,  followed  by  a  single  orderly,  he 
was  coming,  full  of  hope  and  pluck  and  enthu 
siasm,  the  bearer  of  tidings  that  meant  so  much 
to  him,  that  might  be  of  such  weight  in  the  re 
moval  of  some  portion,  at  least,  of  the  serious 
stoppages  against  his  pay.  Away  out  in  the 
Apache  mountains,  where  the  remnants  of  the 
Friday  gang  seemed  to  have  scattered  into  little 
squads  of  two  or  three,  one  party  had  been  trailed 
and  chased  to  its  hole,  a  wild  nook  in  the  rocks, 
and  there  in  brief,  bloody  fight  two  more  of  the 
gang  bit  the  dust  in  reaching  that  height  of 
outlaw  ambition,  "dying  with  their  boots  on," 
Others  were  wounded  and  captured,  and  still 
another,  neither  wounded  nor  combatant,  but  a 
trembling  skulker,  was  dragged  out  from  a  cleft 
in  among  the  boulders  and  kicked  into  the  pres 
ence  of  the  commanding  officer  by  a  burly  Irish 
man  who  would  have  lost  the  bliss  of  a  dozen 
pay-day  sprees  rather  than  that  one  achievement, 
for  the  skulking  captive  was  Marsden,  and  Mars- 
den  was  English. 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  20 1 

A  more  abject,  pitiable,  helpless  wretch  even 
Texan  troopers  had  never  seen.  Imploring  his 
captors  to  protect  him  against  the  illimitable  pos 
sibilities  of  lynch  law, — for  there  were  veteran 
soldiers  present  to  whose  thinking  drum-head 
court-martial  and  summary  execution  were  all  too 
good  for  Marsden, — the  ex-sergeant  told  the 
story  of  his  stealings,  and  the  names  of  his  accom 
plices,  but  declared  that  all  his  ill-gotten  gains 
were  gone.  Every  cent  he  had  at  the  time  of 
his  flight  was  taken  from  him,  he  protested,  by  the 
gang  of  desperadoes  among  whom  he  had  found 
refuge. 

"He's  lyin',  sorr,"  declared  Sergeant  Shaugh- 
nessy  at  this  juncture.  "  He's  hidin'  the  hoith  av 
it  somewheres,  an'  there's  nothin'  like  the  noose 
av  a  lariat  to  frishen  his  mimory."  But  old  Mul- 
lane  ordered  silence. 

"  Go  you  back  to  Worth  fast  as  you  can,"  said 
he  to  Winn.  "Write  the  report  for  me  to  sign 
before  you  start.  Tell  the  colonel  where  what  is 
left  of  the  stolen  property  can  be  found,  and  we'll 
bring  Marsden  along  with  us.  The  quicker  you 
get  there  the  more  you  can  save." 

Worth  was  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  away 
on  a  bee-line,  and  Winn  had  to  twist  and  turn, 
but  he  rode  with  buoyant  heart.  By  prompt 
measures  much  of  his  misfortune  might  be  wiped 


202  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

out.  Then,  with  the  proffered  loan  with  which  to 
settle  his  accounts  and  pay  off  certain  pressing 
creditors,  he  could  start  afresh,  his  head  at  last 
above  the  waters  that  had  weighed  him  down. 
He  would  lead  a  simple,  inexpensive  life,  and 
Laura  would  have  to  help  him.  He  could  set 
aside  one-fourth,  or  even,  perhaps,  one-third,  of 
his  pay  to  send  each  month  to  the  bank  at  San 
Antonio.  It  would  be  hard,  but  at  least  he  would 
be  honest  and  manful,  and  Laura  would  have  to 
try  to  dress  and  live  inexpensively.  She  used  to 
say  she  would  rather  share  exile  and  poverty  with 
him  than  a  palace  wyith  any  other  man,  but  that 
seemed  a  bit  like  hyperbole  in  the  light  of  her 
subsequent  career.  Long  before  this,  he  said,  the 
bank  would  have  sent  the  money  to  "Worth.  It 
was  doubtless  now  awaiting  him  in  Fuller's  safe, 
or  possibly  Trott's.  How  blessed  a  thing  it  was 
that  the  cashier  should  have  been  an  old  and 
warm  friend  of  his  father, — that  he  should  have 
written  proffering  aid  for  old  times'  sake  to  the 
son  of  the  soldier  he  had  known  and  been  aided 
by  and  had  learned  to  love  in  bygone  days!  It 
was  odd  that  Mr.  Cashier  Bolton  had  not  made 
himself  known  to  him,  Harry  Winn,  when  he 
and  his  lovely  bride  were  in  San  Antonio,  but  all 
the  more  was  the  offer  appreciated.  It  was  odd 
that  he  should  couple  with  the  offer  a  condition 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  £03 

that  Winn  should  give  his  word  not  to  tell  the 
name  of  his  father's  friend  and  his  own  bene 
factor,  and  further  to  agree  neither  to  drink  any 
intoxicant  nor  bet  a  cent  on  any  game  of  chance 
until  the  money  was  repaid.  He  was  not  given 
to  drinking,  but  he  had  heard  of  a  fondness  on 
his  father's  part  for  cards,  and  had  felt  the  fas 
cination  himself.  All  right:  he  would  promise 
gladly. 

They  got  fresh  horses  at  a  midway  camp  where 
a  small  detachment  guarded  the  Cougar  Springs, 
rested  during  the  hot  hours  of  the  first  day  after 
a  long  night  ride,  then  set  forth,  chasing  their 
long  shadows  in  the  late  afternoon,  and,  riding  on 
through  the  night,  hove  in  sight  of  the  twinkling 
lights  in  the  company  kitchens  at  Worth  just  as 
the  dawn  was  spreading  over  the  eastward  prairie. 
At  the  guard-house,  aroused  by  the  sentry's  warn 
ing,  a  sergeant  tumbled  off  his  bench  and  ran 
sleepily  out  to  meet  them.  It  was  a  man  whom 
"Winn  had  frequently  seen  hovering  about  his 
quarters  in  attendance  upon  their  maid-of-all- 
work. 

"All  well  at  home,  Quigley?"  he  queried,  hope- 
fully. 

"All  well,  sir;  leastwise  Mrs.  "Winn  and  the 
baby  is,  so  Miss  Purdy  said  yesterday  evenin'. 
Mrs.  Blythe  with  her  children  and  Colonel  Law- 


204  &   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

rence's  have  gone  to  San  Antonio.  They're  all 
goin'  home  together.  Any  luck,  sir?" 

"I  should  say  so!     Hit  'em  hard  twice,  and 
caught  Marsden  alive." 

"  Great Beg  pardon,  lieutenant,  but  that's 

the  best  news  yet!"  The  soldier's  eyes  danced 
and  pleaded  for  more,  but  Winn  was  eager  to 
reach  home,  to  tiptoe  up  to  Laura's  room,  to  kneel 
by  the  bedside  and  fold  her,  waking,  in  his  strong, 
yearning  arms,  to  bend  and  kiss  his  baby's  sleep 
ing  face.  He  spurred  on  across  the  parade.  The 
long,  low  line  of  officers'  quarters  lay  black  and 
unrelieved  against  the  reddening  sky.  Only  in 
one  or  two  were  faint  night-lights  burning,  one 
down  near  the  southern  end,  the  room  of  the  offi 
cer  of  the  day,  another  in  his  own.  The  slats  of 
the  blinds,  half  turned,  revealed  the  glimmer  of  a 
lamp  within.  Probably  baby  was  awake  and  de 
manding  entertainment,  and  there  could  be  no 
surprising  Laura  as  he  had  planned.  Still,  he 
guided  his  horse  so  as  to  avoid  pebbles  or  any 
thing  that  would  click  against  the  shod  hoofs. 
The  home-coming  would  be  the  sweeter  for  its 
being  unheralded. 

"Never  mind  the  saddle-bags  now,"  he  mur 
mured  to  his  orderly.  "Take  the  horses  to 
stables,  and  bring  the  traps  over  by  and  by." 
Then  he  tiptoed  around  to  the  back  of  the  house. 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  205 

The  front  door,  he  knew,  would  be  locked;  so 
would  that  opening  on  the  little  gallery  in  rear; 
but  there  was  the  window  of  his  den;  he  could 
easily  raise  it  from  outside  and  let  himself  in 
without  any  one's  being  the  wiser.  A  glance  at 
his  watch  showed  him  that  in  ten  minutes  the 
morning  gun  would  fire  and  the  post  wake  up  to 
the  shrill  reveille  of  the  infantry  fifes  and  drums. 
Even  though  Laura  should  be  awake  and  up  with 
her  baby,  the  surprise  might  be  attempted.  The 
back  porch  was  lighted  up  with  the  glow  from 
the  east.  The  back  door  of  the  Barclay-Brayton 
establishment  was  ajar,  and  some  one  was  moving 
about  in  the  kitchen, — Hannibal,  probably,  get 
ting  coffee  for  his  master  in  time  for  morning 
stables.  Just  to  try  it,  "Winn  tiptoed  up  the  low 
steps  to  the  rear  door,  and  there  it  stood,  not  wide 
open,  but  just  ajar.  "Miss  Purdy"  had  mended 
her  ways,  then,  and  was  rising  betimes,  he  said. 
Softly  entering,  he  passed  through  the  little 
kitchen  into  the  dark  dining-room  beyond,  felt 
his  way  through  into  his  deserted  den  to  the  left, 
— the  blinds  were  tightly  closed, — thence  to  the 
narrow  hall,  and  up  the  carpeted,  creaking  stairs. 
The  door  of  the  back  room  at  the  east,  the  nur 
sery,  was  right  at  the  landing.  The  light  of  the 
dawn  was  strong  enough  to  reveal  dimly  objects 
within.  That  door,  too,  was  wide  open,  and  there 


206  A-   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

by  the  bedside  was  the  cradle  of  his  baby,  and 
the  little  one  placidly  asleep.  There  in  her  bed, 
innocent  of  the  possibility  of  masculine  observa 
tion,  her  ears  closed,  her  mouth  wide  open  in  the 
stupor  of  sleep,  lay  the  domestic  combination  of 
nurse  and  maid-of-all-work.  He  tiptoed  past  the 
door  and  softly  approached  that  of  the  front,  the 
westward  room, — his  and  Laura's.  It,  too,  was 
partly  open.  A  lamp  burned  dimly  on  the  bu 
reau.  The  broad,  white  bed,  with  its  tumbled 
pillows  and  tossed-back  coverlet,  was  empty,  as 
he  found  the  room  to  be.  Laura,  then,  and  not 
the  maid,  was  the  early  riser.  Softly  he  searched 
about  the  upper  floor.  She  had  heard  him,  after 
all,  and  was  hiding  somewhere  to  tease  him.  No; 
there  on  the  back  of  her  rocking-chair  hung  the 
pink,  beribboned  wrapper  that  was  so  becoming 
to  her,  and  on  another  the  dainty,  lace-trimmed 
night-robe.  She  must  be  up  and  dressed, — his 
languid,  lazy  Laura,  who  rarely  rose  before  nine 
o'clock,  as  a  rule,  and  now  it  was  only  five.  A 
strange  throbbing  began  at  his  heart.  Quickly 
he  turned  and  scurried  down  the  stairs,  struck  a 
match  in  the  parlor,  another  in  the  dining-room. 
Both  were  empty.  The  den  and  its  closets  were 
explored.  No  one  there. 

Out  he  went  through  the  kitchen  to  the  east 
ward  porch  again.    The  light  was  stronger.    Over 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  207 

the  level  mesa  to  the  edge  of  the  bluff,  not  fifty 
yards  away,  his  eager  eyes  swept  in  search  of  the 
truant  form.  There  stood  at  the  very  brow  of 
the  projecting  point  at  the  northeast  side  a  little, 
latticed  summer-house  where  sentimental  couples 
sometimes  sat  and  looked  over  the  shallow  valley 
of  moonlight  nights;  and  there,  close  beside  it, 
switching  the  skirt  of  her  stylish  riding-habit  with 
her  whip,  stood  Laura  Winn.  Just  as  she  turned 
and  glanced  impatiently  over  her  shoulder,  out 
from  the  adjoining  door  came  a  soldierly  form  in 
riding-dress.  For  an  instant  three  forms  seemed 
to  stand  stock-still;  then  came  the  shock  and  roar 
of  the  reveille  gun,  and  before  the  echoes  rolled 
away  Lieutenant  Winn,  striding  up  to  Barclay 
with  fury  in  his  eyes,  struck  the  captain  full  in 
the  face  and  sent  him  crashing  over  a  kitchen 
chair. 


CHAPTEK  XV. 

TEN  miles  out  to  the  northwest  the  stream  that 
curved  and  twisted  around  the  low  mesa  of  Fort 
Worth  burst  its  way  through  a  ridge  in  the  foot 
hills,  and,  brawling  and  dashing  at  its  rocky 
banks,  rolled  out  over  the  lowlands,  'foaming  at 
the  mouth  with  the  violence  of  its  own  struggles. 
Far  in  the  heart  of  the  hills  it  had  its  source  in 
several  clear,  cold  springs,  while  the  deep  hoarded 
snows  of  the  harsh  winters  fed  and  swelled  it  in 
the  springtide  until  it  reached  the  proportions  of 
a  short-lived  torrent.  Huge  heaps  of  uprooted 
trees  and  tangled  brushwood  it  deposited  along 
its  shores  as  far  down  even  as  the  fort,  but  nothing 
was  carried  below  the  sutler's.  "Ahl's  fish  that 
comes  to  Fuller's  net,"  said  Sergeant  McHugh, 
"  an'  sorra  a  sliver  av  a  sardine  iver  got  away  from 
it."  Once  in  a  while,  after  unusual  flood,  the 
flotsam  and  jetsam  of  the  creek  would  be  diversi 
fied  with  wagon-bodies,  ranch  roofs,  camp  equi 
page,  and  the  like,  for  "the  Eange,"  as  this  odd 
upheaval  was  locally  termed,  was  a  famous  place 
for  prospectors. 

A  beautiful  stream  was  tEe  Blanca  within  its 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  209 

mountain  gates,  but  an  ashen  pallor  overspread 
it  after  its  fight  for  freedom.     It  was  never  the 
same  stream  after  it  got  away.     It  danced  and 
sparkled  past  pretty  nooks  and  shaded  ravines 
among  the  hills,  but  issued  from  the  gateway, 
like  the  far-famed  Stinking  Kiver  of  the  Ban 
nocks  and  Shoshones  of  Northwestern  Wyoming, 
a  metamorphosed  stream.     It  had  a  bad  reputa 
tion.     It  was  solely 'responsible  for  the  fact  that 
Worth  had  been  located  away  out  here  in  the 
bald,    bleak,    open    prairie    country,    instead    of 
among  those  bold  and  beautiful  heights  to  the 
northwest.     "The  very  spot  for  a  military  post  I" 
said  the  officers  of  the  earlier  scouting  parties,  as 
they  camped  within  the  gates  in  the  midst  of  a 
lonely  glade.     "Lovely,"  said  the  Texan  guides, 
in   reply,    "so   long   as   you   don't   mind   being 
drowned  out  every  spring."    It  seems  that  snows 
would  melt  of  a  sudden,  tremendous  thunder 
storms  burst  among  the  crags,  and  flood  and  de 
luge  the  valleys,  for  the  Blanca  could  not  with 
sufficient  swiftness  discharge  its  swollen  torrents 
through  that  narrow  gorge.     Beautiful  it  lay, 
ordinarily,  as  a  summer  sea,  and  the  bridle-path 
that  wound  through  the  pass  was  a  favorite  route 
for  picnic-parties  from  Worth.    But  storm-clouds 
would  rise  and  turn  summer  seas  to  raging  water- 
demons,  and  then  the  flood  that  tore  through  the 
14 


210  4   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

gates  would  sweep  all  before  it,  like  the  unloosed 
waters  of  the  Conemaugh  that  awful  May  of  '89. 

From  Worth  to  the  White  Gate  the  prairie  road 
wound  hard  and  firm,  and  before  the  late  excite 
ment  several  picnic-,  riding-,  and  driving-parties 
had  paid  their  spring-time  visits.  It  was  quite  the 
thing,  too,  for  such  maids  and  matrons  as  were 
good  horsewomen  to  ride  thither  in  the  lengthen 
ing  afternoons.  Mrs.  Frazier  had  consulted  Col- 
labone  as  to  the  earliest  date  on  which  Barclay 
could  stand  a  long  drive,  as  she  wished  to  give  a 
little  fete  in  his  honor,  and  had  planned  a  picnic 
to  Barrier  Eock,  a  romantic  spot  just  within  the 
gorge.  Collabone  had  referred  her  to  his  assist 
ant,  and  that  younger  officer  consulted  his  patient 
before  committing  himself  to  reply. 

"  I  don't  care  to  ride  in  an  ambulance,  doctor, 
but  I  do  long  to  get  in  saddle.  There's  no  strain 
on  that  leg  below  the  knee.  Can't  you  let  me 
mount  from  my  back  porch  here  and  amble 
around  these  fine  mornings  before  people  are  up?" 
And  "Funnybone"  assented.  He  and  Barclay 
rode  out  together,  very  cautiously,  next  morning 
at  reveille,  and,  finding  his  patient  benefited  by 
the  gentle  exercise  on  such  a  perfect  mount  as 
either  of  those  Kentucky  bays,  the  doctor  said, 
"  Go  again ;  only  ride  slowly,  and  mount  and  dis 
mount  only  at  the  back  porch,  where  you  have 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  211 

only  to  lower  yourself  into  saddle.  Be  sure  to 
avoid  any  shock  or  jar,  then  you're  all  right." 

Hannibal  and  Mrs.  Winn's  domestic  were  the 
only  persons  besides  Barclay's  orderly  to  see  the 
start,  but  had  the  domestic  herself  been  alone  it 
would  have  been  sufficient  to  insure  transmission 
of  the  news.  First  she  told  her  mistress.  Later 
she  learned  from  Hannibal  that  the  captain  was 
going  out  to  stables  next  morning  the  same  way, 
and  had  ordered  coffee  to  be  ready  at  reveille. 
This,  too,  was  conveyed  to  Laura,  and  that  even 
ing  she  sent  for  the  veteran  stable  sergeant  of  the 
troop  to  which  her  husband  was  temporarily  at 
tached,  and  asked  him  if  Robin  Hood,  a  pretty 
little  chestnut  she  used  to  ride,  was  still  in  the 
stable.  He  was,  and  would  Mrs.  Winn  be  pleased 
to  ride?  The  sergeant  would  be  glad  to  see  the 
lady  in  saddle  again.  Her  handsome  side-saddle 
was,  with  her  bridle,  always  kept  in  perfect  order, 
but  for  several  months  Mrs.  Winn  had  taken  no 
exercise  that  way. 

"I'm  going  to  ride  at  reveille,  sergeant,"  she 
confided  to  the  faithful  soldier.  "It's  so  long 
since  I  mounted,  I  wish  to  try  once  or  twice  when 
people  can't  see  me."  And  Sergeant  Burns  had 
promised  that  as  soon  as  the  sentry  would  release 
him  after  gun-fire  Robin  Hood  should  be  on  hand. 
He'd  be  proud  to  come  with  him  himself. 


212  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

True  to  his  word,  Burns  was  up  at  four-fifteen; 
Robin  was  groomed  and  fed  and  watered  and 
saddled  in  style,  and  ready  to  start  the  moment 
the  sentry  was  relieved  by  the  morning  gun-fire 
from  the  imposition  of  the  order  to  "allow  no 
horse  to  be  taken  out  between  taps  and  reveille, 
except  in  the  presence  of  a  commissioned  officer 
or  the  sergeant  of  the  guard."  The  sight  that 
met  the  sergeant's  eyes  as  he  cantered  around 
back  of  the  row  of  officers'  quarters,  leading 
Robin  by  the  rein,  was  one  he  never  forgot. 

With  pallid  face,  down  which  the  blood  was 
streaming  from  a  cut  at  the  temple,  Captain  Bar 
clay  was  seated  on  the  steps,  striving  to  bind  a 
handkerchief  about  his  lower  leg.  Old  Hannibal, 
forgetful  of  the  dignity  of  the  Old  Dominion, 
was  actually  running  down  the  back  road,  in 
haste,  it  seems,  to  summon  the  doctor.  On  the 
porch,  amid  some  overturned  chairs,  two  athletic, 
sinewy  young  men  were  grappling,  one  of  them, 
Lieutenant  Brayton,  almost  lifting  and  carrying 
the  other,  Lieutenant  "Winn,  towards  his  own 
doorway,  both  ashen  gray  as  to  their  faces,  both 
fearfully  excited,  both  struggling  hard,  both  with 
panting  breath  striving  to  speak  with  exaggerated 
calm. 

On  this  scene,  wringing  her  hands,  sobbing 
with  fright  and  misery,  flitting  first  to  Barclay's 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  213 

side,  then  back  towards  her  straining  husband, 
saying  wild  and  incoherent  things  to  both,  was 
Laura  Winn.  Burns  had  the  frontiersman's  con 
tempt  for  a  chimney-pot  hat,  and  never  seemed 
one  so  incongruous  as  this, — her  riding  head-gear 
which  in  the  midst  of  her  wailings  Mrs.  Winn 
clasped  to  her  heaving  breast.  To  make  matters 
more  complicated,  the  neighborhood  was  waking 
up,  domestics  and  "strikers"  were  gazing  from 
back  porches  farther  down  the  row,  and  Blythe's 
big  hounds  had  taken  to  barking  furiously,  until 
that  bulky  and  bewildered  soldier  himself  came 
forth,  damned  them  into  their  kennel,  then  has 
tened  in  consternation  to  the  aid  of  Barclay.  By 
this  time,  too,  Winn  had  succeeded  in  making  his 
wife  hear  him,  and  was  ordering  her  within-doors ; 
but  like  some  daft  creature  she  hovered,  moaning 
and  wringing  her  hands  and  staring  at  Barclay, 
whose  eyes  were  now  beginning  to  close,  and 
whose  form  was  slowly  swaying. 

"In  God's  name,  man,  what's  happened?"  de 
manded  Blythe,  as  he  seized  and  steadied  the 
toppling  form.  "Why,  you're  bleeding  like  an 
ox.  Your  boot  is  running  over.  Drop  those 
horses,  Burns,  and  run  for  the  doctor,  lively,"  he 
urged.  Needing  no  further  authority,  the  ser 
geant  turned  his  charges  loose  and  scurried  after 
Hannibal. 


214  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

"Help  me  carry  Barclay  in-doors,"  was  the 
next  word.  With  one  warning  order  to  Winn  to 
keep  away,  young  Brayton  broke  loose  from  him 
and  ran  to  assist.  As  though  half  stupefied,  Winn 
heavily  moved  a  pace  or  two,  then  sank  upon  a 
bench  and  stared.  His  wife  stood  gazing  in  hor 
ror  at  the  trail  of  blood  that  followed  the  three 
men  into  the  hall,  then  faltered  over  to  where  the 
young  soldier  sat,  moaning,  "Oh,  Harry!  Oh, 
Harry!"  Reaching  his  side,  she  laid  her  hand 
upon  his  shoulder  and  bade  him  look  at  her, — 
speak  to  her.  He  rose  slowly  to  his  feet,  his  face 
averted,  shook  himself  free,  and,  with  a  shudder, 
but  never  uttering  a  word  in  reply,  passed  into 
his  dark  doorway.  The  nurse-girl,  wide-eyed, 
met  him  at  the  threshold.  "  Go  to  your  mistress," 
he  said,  hoarsely.  He  stumbled  on  fhrough  the 
house,  unslung  the  revolver  belted  to  his  waist, 
and  laid  it  on  the  hall  fable;  reconsidered; 
buckled  it  firmly  on,  and,  pulling  his  hat  down 
over  his  eyes,  drew  back  the  door-bolt  and  let  him 
self  out  upon  the  front  piazza.  Crossing  the 
parade,  he  saw  the  red  sash  of  the  officer  of  the 
day.  De  Lancy  was  dragging  sleepily  back  from 
his  reveille  visit  to  the  guard,  but  the  sight  of 
Winn  aroused  him,  and  he  quickened  his  pace 
and  came  striding  to  him. 

"Hullo,   lad,"   he   hailed,   full   twenty   paces 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  215 

away,  "what  luck?  Got  Marsden,  the  sergeant 
tells  me.— Why Good  God!  what's  hap 
pened?" 

"Nothing,"  said  Winn,  "except,  perhaps,  I've 
killed  Barclay.  Take  me  to  the  colonel." 

"You're  daft,  man!"  said  De  Lancy,  instantly, 
while  an  awful  fear  almost  checked  the  beating 
of  his  heart.  Then,  seizing  Winn  by  the  arm, 
"What  d'ye  mean?"  he  asked. 

"Go  and  see,"  said  Winn,  stupidly,  as  he 
buried  his  face  in  his  arms  a  moment,  then 
stretched  them  out  full  length,  and,  tossing  his 
head  back,  shut  his  eyes  as  though  to  blot  out  a 
hateful  sight.  "Go,"  he  continued;  "then  come 
and  take  me  to  the  colonel." 

And  De  Lancy  started  on  the  run  and  collided 
with  Brayton  at  the  door. 

"For  God's  sake,  go  and  hurry  up  ' Funny- 
bone,'  "  moaned  the  youngster.  "  Here's  Barclay 
bleeding  to  death." 

De  Lancy  ran  his  best:  guardsmen  across  the 
parade  stopped  and  stared,  men  in  shirt-sleeves 
rushed  out  on  the  barrack  stoops  and  stood  and 
gazed,  and  a  corporal,  with  rifle  trailed,  came 
running  over  to  see  what  was  amiss,  just  as  the 
junior  doctor,  in  cap  and  overcoat,  trousers  and 
slippers,  came  bolting  out  of  his  hallway  and  fly 
ing  up  the  path.  In  front  of  De  Lancy's  one 


216  ^    TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

slipper  went  hurtling  back  through  midair,  but 
the  doctor  rushed  on  in  stocking-foot.  The  cor 
poral  picked  up  the  shoe  and  followed.  ]STo  one 
seemed  to  look  for  the  moment  at  Winn,  who 
turned  slowly  back  to  the  pathway  and  like  a 
blind  man  seemed  groping  his  way  towards  Fra- 
zier's.  The  officer  of  the  day  passed  him  by  on 

«/     Jr  i/ 

the  run,  following  at  the  doctor's  heels,  with 
never  another  look  at  him.  Men  seemed  to  think 
only  of  Barclay.  Was  it  credible  that  an  officer 
and  a  gentleman,  as  Winn  had  been  regarded, 
could  purposely  have  dealt  that  honored  soldier  a 
mortal  blow,  unless — unless — but  who  could  find 
words  to  frame  the  thought?  Once  within  Bray- 
ton's  hallway,  De  Lancy  turned  and  slammed  shut 
the  door,  for  others  were  coming  on  the  run  from 
far  across  the  parade.  Over  at  the  guard-house 
the  men  had  started  for  their  breakfast,  but  hung 
there,  clustered  about  the  sentry-post,  gazing  over 
the  criss-cross  plat  of  the  parade,  and  muttering 
their  conjectures  as  to  the  cause  of  the  trouble. 
The  sight  of  Lieutenant  "Winn  wandering  on 
down  the  row,  turning  from  time  to  time,  halting 
as  though  uncertain  what  he  ought  to  do,  while 
every  other  officer  was  running  to  the  other  end 
of  the  row,  was  something  they  could  not  under 
stand. 

Then  Mrs.  Winn,  in  riding-habit,  came  sud- 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  217 

denly  forth  upon  her  piazza,  and,  gazing  wildly 
up  and  down,  caught  sight  of  her  husband,  now 
some  fifty  paces  away  along  the  gravel  walk. 
Stretching  forth  her  arms  to  him,  she  began  to 
call  aloud,  "  Harry!  Harry!  please  come  back!" 
He  never  turned.  She  ran  down  the  steps  and  out 
to  the  gate  and  called  him,  louder,  louder,  so  that 
they  could  hear  the  voice  all  over  the  garrison  in 
the  sweet,  still  morning  air;  but  on  he  went,  dog 
gedly  now,  faster  and  faster.  She  gathered  up 
her  clinging  skirts  in  one  hand,  and,  pleading  still, 
followed  after.  Not  until  he  had  mounted  the 
steps  at  the  colonel's  did  the  young  officer  turn 
again;  then  with  uplifted  hand  and  arm  he  stood 
warning  her  back.  Something  in  the  attitude, 
something  in  the  stern,  quivering  white  face, 
seemed  at  last  to  bring  to  her  the  realization  of 
the  force  of  his  unspoken  denunciation. 

"Harry!  Harry!"  she  cried.  "Oh,  come  and 
let  me  tell  you.  You  don't  understand !  I  meant 
no  wrong!  I  was  only  going  for  a  ride, — not  with 
him, — not  with  him,  Harry!"  And  so,  pleading, 
weeping,  she  followed  almost  to  the  colonel's  gate 
before  the  door  was  opened  from  within  and 
Winn  was  swallowed  up  in  the  darkness  of  the 
hall. 

By  this  time  some  inkling  of  the  trouble  had 
been  borne  to  Collabone,  ever  an  early  riser.  As 


218  4   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

he  came  hastily  forth  from  his  quarters,  the  first 
thing  he  saw  was  the  drooping  form  of  Mrs. 
Winn,  weeping  at  the  colonel's  gate.  Seizing  her 
arm  with  scant  ceremony,  he  whirled  her  about 
and  bore  her  homeward,  she  sobbing  out  her  story 
as  they  sped  along,  he  listening  with  clouded, 
anxious  face. 

"  Go  back  to  your  room,  Mrs.  Whin,"  he  said, 
so  solemnly  and  warningly  she  could  not  but  heed. 
"Go  to  your  baby.  I'll  go  first  next  door,  then 
I'll  find  your  husband."  She  shrank  within  the 
hallway,  and  threw  herself,  weeping  miserably, 
upon  the  sofa  in  the  pretty  parlor, — the  parlor 
where  she  had  so  fascinated  Hodge.  There  the 
sound  of  her  baby's  wailing  reached  her  in  an 
interval  of  her  own,  and  she  called  to  the  nurse 
to  do  something  to  comfort  that  child.  There  was 
no  answer.  "  Miss  Purdy,"  with  clattering  tongue 
and  eager  eyes  and  ears  and  half  a  dozen  sym 
pathizing  neighbors,  was  out  in  rear  of  the  house, 
deaf  to  demands  of  either  mother  or  child;  there 
Collabone  found  her,  and  sent  her  scurrying 
within  before  the  fury  of  his  wrath. 

"Now,  this  will  not  do,  Mrs.  Winn,"  he  said, 
as,  following,  he  lifted  the  moaning  woman  from 
the  sofa.  "  You  must  go  to  your  room, — to  your 
child,  as  I  told  you.  Captain  Barclay  will  soon  be 
all  right.  He  has  lost  much  blood,  but  the  hemor- 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  219 

rhage  is  checked.  E"ow  I  will  go  for  Mr.  Winn. 
It's  a  bad  business,  but  don't  make  it  worse  by 
any  more — nonsense."  With  that  he  not  too 
gently  pushed  her  up  the  first  few  stairs,  then 
turned  abruptly  and  hastened  away  to  Frazier's. 

In  the  hall  he  found  that  gray-haired,  gray- 
faced  veteran  listening  stupidly  to  Winn. 

"I  don't  understand,  sir,"  he  was  saying. 
"You  struck  him— with  what?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Winn.  "They  say  I've 
killed  him.  I  have  come  to  surrender  myself." 
His  eyes  were  as  dull  and  leaden  as  his  heart. 

"It's  not  so  bad,"  burst  in  the  doctor.  "Bar 
clay  fell  or  was  knocked  over  a  chair,  and  the  jar 
reopened  his  wound.  He  fainted  from  loss  of 
blood,  but  it's  checked  now." 

"But — how? — why?"  the  colonel  was  stam 
mering.  Over  the  balustrade  aloft  popped  one 
head  night-capped,  and  two  with  touseled  hair, 
and  blanched  faces  were  framed  in  all  three,  and 
gasping  words  were  heard,  and  whisperings  as  of 
awe-stricken,  news-craving  souls.  "Where  did 
this  occur,  and  when  did  you  return,  sir?" 

"On  the  back  porch  of  my — of  our  quarters, 
colonel, — when  I  got  back,  just  before  gun-fire." 

"  And  what  possible  excuse  or  explanation  have 
you,  sir?  What  could  warrant  such — such  con 
duct?"  demanded  Frazier,  as  though  at  a  loss  for 


220  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

suitable  words.  Yet,  even  as  he  asked,  his  wife's 
predictions  reasserted  themselves,  and  he  glanced 
uneasily  aloft. 

"  Come  into  the  parlor,  colonel,"  implored  Col- 
labone.  "Say  no  more  here.  Let  me  explain. 
It's  all  a  wretched  mistake."  And,  hall  pushing, 
half  pulling,  but  all  impelling,  the  doctor  suc 
ceeded  in  hustling  the  post  commander  and  the 
inert,  unresisting  subaltern  within  the  parlor. 
Then,  to  the  infinite  disgust  of  the  colonel's  wife, 
he  shut — yes,  slammed — the  door. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  in  close  arrest, 
Lieutenant  Winn  returned  to  his  own  roof  and 
locked  himself  in  his  den.  Mrs.  Winn,  kneeling 
at  the  keyhole,  pleaded  ten  minutes  for  admis 
sion,  all  in  vain;  then  she  sent  her  maid  for  Dr. 
Collabone  and  Mrs.  Faulkner,  and  went  straight 
way  to  bed. 


CHAPTEE  XVI. 

THREE  days  more,  and  back  came  Mullane  with 
the  wretched  prisoner  Marsden.  The  Irish  cap 
tain's  eyes  grew  saucer-big  when  he  heard  the 
harrowing  details  of  recent  events  at  the  post. 
Never  in  its  liveliest  days,  before  or  since,  had 
Worth  known  an  excitement  to  match  this;  for, 
with  the  best  intentions  in  the  world,  there  wasn't 
a  woman  in  officers'  row  who  couldrget  at  the 
bottom  facts  of  the  episode.  Rumors  of  the 
wildest  kind  that  were  early  in  circulation  were 
best  left  to  the  imagination  of  the  reader.  The 
only  thing  actually  known  was  that  Mrs.  Winn 
and  Captain  Barclay  were  going  out  riding  at 
reveille,  that  Winn  surprised  them  and  knocked 
the  captain  down,  that  Winn  was  now  in  close 
arrest,  Barclay  on  the  mend  and  again  sitting  up, 
Mrs.  Winn  confined  by  illness  to  her  bed,  Mrs. 
Faulkner  (a  most  important  person  she)  in  de 
voted  attendance,  all  their  differences  forgiven  if 
not  forgotten, — and  there  were  few  Mrs.  Faulk 
ner  would  not  have  forgiven  for  the  bliss  of  being 
for  the  time  the  most  sought-after  woman  at 
Worth,  for  every  one  wanted  to  know  how  Mrs. 

221 


222  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

Winn  was  every  hour  of  the  day,  and  hoped  to 
hear  what  dreadful  imprudence  of  hers  it  was 
that  caused  the  equally  dreadful  fracas. 

Gravely  and  quietly  the  doctors  told  their  story 
to  the  colonel;  that  there  was  no  arrangement  or 
engagement  to  ride  together;  that  Captain  Bar 
clay  had  no  idea  Mrs.  Winn  ever  rose — much  less 
rode — that  early;  and  most  men  accepted  the 
statement  as  true.  But  there  was  the  fatal  ex 
hibition  of  Barclay's  letter  by  Mrs.  Winn  to  con 
front  the  women,  who  would  have  held  him  guilt 
less  and  saddled  all  the  blame  upon  her  lovely, 
sloping  shoulders.  What  had  he  to  write  to  her 
about,  unless  it  was  to  ask  her  to  ride  or  something 
of  the  kind?  And  the  idea  of  their  daring  to 
select  such  an  hour,  instead  of  going  out  when — 
when  people  could  see!  And  then  there  was  the 
fact  that  Mr.  Winn  still  refused  to  be  reconciled 
to  his  wife.  What  did  that  mean,  if  not  that  he 
deemed  her  guilty?  Blythe,  who  had  a  kindlier 
feeling  for  Winn  than  had  most  men  at  Worth 
(for  Brayton  now  was  utterly  set  against  him  and 
refused  to  go  near  him),  sent  in  his  card  and 
begged  to  be  allowed  to  see  him;  and  Blythe's 
face  was  sad  and  gray  when,  half  an  hour  later, 
he  came  forth  again. 

"Colonel,"  said  he  to  Frazier,  "something  has 
got  to  be  done  for  that  poor  fellow,  or  he'll  go 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  223 

mad.  Collabone  has  told  him  Barclay  was  totally 
ignorant  of  Mrs.  Winn's  plan  to  ride  that  morn 
ing, — that  his  assault  was  utterly  unjustifiable; 
and  between  that  and  the  contemplation  of  his 
wife's  brainless  freak,  and  all  his  old  trouble,  I'm 
sorely  afraid  he'll  break  down, — go  all  to  pieces. 
Can't  something  be  done?" 

Both  Frazier  and  Brooks  thought  something 
ought  to  be  done;  and  so  said  Blythe  and  De 
Lancy,  and  Follansbee  and  Fellows,  when  they 
came  trooping  home,  empty-handed,  from  their 
scout.  Only  Mullane's  detachment  had  accom 
plished  anything,  and  such  success  as  he  had  was 
due  almost  entirely  to  Winn's  persistent  effort  and 
energetic  trailing.  Something  was  being  done  to 
hunt  up  stolen  stores  as  revealed  by  Marsden,  but 
poor  Winn,  who  had  ridden  home  so  full  of  hope 
and  pluck  and  energy,  now  paced  his  narrow 
room  for  hours,  or  lay  upon  his  lounge,  face 
buried  in  his  arms,  either  dull  and  apathetic  or 
smarting  with  agony.  On  Mrs.  "Winn  old  Colla 
bone  had  little  sympathy  to  waste.  Bluntly  he 
told  her  that  she  was  responsible  for  the  whole 
business  and  deserved  to  be  down  sick.  So,  too, 
he  told  the  colonel,  who  was  having  a  blissful 
time  answering  the  questions  and  squirming  un 
der  the  nagging  of  his  household  at  home.  At 
first  Laura  had  shown  tremendous  spirit.  Mr. 


224  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

Winn's  conduct  was  an  insult.  The  doctor's  com 
ments  were  an  insult.  The  instant  she  was  well 
enough  to  move  she  would  take  her  precious  child 
and  return  to  her  mother's  roof. 

"Your  mother  hasn't  any  roof/'  said  Colla- 
bone.  "She's  boarding  in  Washington,  playing 
for  another  husband,  and  you'd  spoil  the  whole 
game,  turning  up  with  a  grandchild.  What 
you've  got  to  do  is  beg  your  husband's  pardon  for 
all  the  scrapes  you've  led  him  into, — this  last  one 
especially."  Laura  wailed  and  wept  and  cried  out 
against  the  heartless  cruelty  of  her  husband,  who 
left  her  sick  and  dying,  for  all  he  knew  (Colla- 
bone  had  assured  him  there  was  nothing  on  earth 
the  matter  but  nerves),  and  she  thought  Mrs. 
Faulkner  ought  to  make  him  hear  how  ill  she  was. 
At  last  she  managed  to  have  herself  appropriately 
arrayed,  and  with  face  of  meekest  suffering  way 
laid  him  on  the  lower  floor  before  he  could  close 
the  door  against  her,  after  a  brief  official  visit 
from  the  adjutant. 

But  the  first  glance  into  his  haggard,  hopeless 
face,  the  sight  of  despair  such  as  she  had  never 
dreamed  of,  struck  to  her  soul  something  like  ter 
ror.  One  moment  she  gazed,  all  thought  of  her 
puny  troubles  vanished  and  forgotten,  and  then 
with  one  great  cry — the  first  genuine  feeling  she 
had  shown — the  unhappy  woman  threw  herself  at 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  225 

his  feet  and  clasped  her  arms  about  his  trembling 
knees. 

That  night  when  the  doctor  called  he  found  her 
humbled,  contrite,  concerned  in  earnest,  and  all 
for  her  husband.  "It's  the  first  time/7  said  he, 
"  I've  ever  felt  any  respect  for  you  whatever,  Mrs. 
Winn.  I  believe  there's  something  in  you,  after 
all," — "though  probably  not  much,"  he  later 
added  when  he  told  his  wife.  That  night,  too,  he 
and  Brooks  and  Blythe  sat  half  an  hour  with 
Winn.  The  colonel  asked  them  to  do  it,  for  it 
was  time  to  help  him  if  help  was  to  come  at  all. 
The  same  day  brought  inquiry  from  Department 
Head-Quarters  as  to  whether  Lieutenant  Winn 
had  made  good  the  amount  of  that  great  short 
age;  and  the  promised  money  package  had  not 
come. 

Gently  they  asked  him  if  he  had  reasonable 
right  to  look  for  it,  and  all  the  answer  Ee  could 
make  was  that  it  had  been  promised  on  certain 
conditions.  He  had  recently  accepted  them,  had 
expected  to  find  the  money  on  his  arrival  at 

Worth,  but  instead  had  found and  the  hands 

thrown  hopelessly  forward,  palms  upraised,  were 
as  expressive  as  any  words  could  have  been. 
There  was  silence  a  moment.  Then  he  spoke 
again. 

"And,  after  all,  what  matters  it  now?    With 
15 


226  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

this  court-martial  hanging  over  me,  I've  nothing 
but  dismissal  from  the  army  to  look  forward  to  in 
any  event." 

"And  what  if  there  should  be  no  trial,  Winn?" 
said  the  major,  after  a  reflective  pause.  "It  is 
true  that  you  have  made  an  awful — break;  but 
as  yet  you  are  your  only  accuser,  and  Mrs.  Winn 
is  the  only  witness,  for  Barclay  is  dumb." 

But  Winn  shook  his  head.  "I  know  enough 
of  army  matters  to  know  that  this  thing  is  all  over 
the  post  and  will  soon  be  all  over  Texas.  If  Cap 
tain  Barclay  was  of — the  old  army, — if  he  had 
been  brought  up  as  I  was,  we  might  settle  it  out 
of  court.  My  father  used  to  say  that  there  could 
be  no  other  reparation  for  a  blow.  What  would 
my  apologies  be  worth?  They  would  not  re 
establish  him." 

"Sometimes  I  think,"  said  Brooks,  after 
another  reflective  pause,  "  that  men  of  Barclay's 
stamp  need  no  appeal  to  the  code  to  set  them 
right.  That  is  only  a  device  by  which  physical 
courage  is  made  a  substitute  for  other  virtues  that 
may  be  lacking.  Barclay  occupies  a  plane  above 
it.  In  view  of  his  record  in  the  Platte  country 
and  in  this  recent  chase  after  the  outlaws,  it  would 
take  a  bold  man  to  sneer  at  him,  in  this  garrison 
at  least;  and  if  he  prefer  no  charge  against  you, 
who  is  to  do  it?  This  trouble  can  be  straightened 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  227 

out,  Winn,"  said  the  major,  soothingly,  "if  only 
you  could  fix — that  other." 

But  how,  said  they  to  each  other,  as  they  went 
gloomily  away,  was  that  other  to  be  "fixed"? 
How  was  a  poor  fellow  with  nothing  but  his  pay, 
burdened  by  an  extravagant  and  helpless  wife,  a 
little  child,  and  a  number  of  debts,  to  hope  to 
raise  three  thousand  dollars  to  prevent  the  almost 
total  stoppage  of  his  stipend?  That  evening  when 
Mrs.  Faulkner  left  her  invalid  friend  the  latter 
asked  her  to  say  to  Harry  that  she  begged  him  to 
come  and  speak  with  her.  Harry  went,  but  there 
was  no  spring,  no  gladness,  in  the  slow  and  halt 
ing  feet  that  climbed  the  narrow  stair;  there  was 
no  hope  in  the  care-worn  face  that  came  forth 
again  in  half  an  hour.  Laura  wished  him  to  take 
her  watch,  her  diamond  ear-rings,  a  locket  he  had 
given  her  in  bygone  days,  and  other  pretty 
trinkets,  sell  them,  and  pay  their  debts:  she  was 
amazed  to  hear,  not  that  they  owed  so  much,  but 
that  her  treasures  would  bring  so  little. 

The  fourth  day  of  his  arrest  was  well-nigh  gone. 
Collabone  had  reported  Barclay  quite  himself 
again,  and  sitting  up,  though  none  too  strong,  and 
then  he  saw  that  Winn  at  last  had  been  writing. 
"  Kead  that,"  said  Harry,  briefly,  and  handed  him 
the  sheet.  It  was  addressed  to  Captain  Barclay. 

"  In  the  last  four  days  I  have  done  nothing  but 


228  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

think  of  the  great  wrong  I  did  you.  I  have  tried 
to  find  words  in  which  to  tell  you  my  distress  and 
self-reproach,  but  they  fail  me.  There  was  no 
shadow  of  justification  for  my  suspicion,  and 
therefore  no  excuse  for  my  blow.  Had  you  de 
sired  reparation  you  would  have  demanded  it,  and 
the  rule  used  to  be  for  a  man  in  my  plight  to  wait 
until  it  was  asked  before  he  tendered  an  apology 
that  might  be  considered  a  stopper  to  a  challenge. 
But  I  will  not  wait.  At  the  risk  of  anything  any 
man  may  say  or  think,  I  write  this  to  tell  you  that 
I  deplore  my  conduct  and  with  all  my  heart  to 
beg  your  pardon." 

Collabone  went  through  it  twice  with  blinking 
eyes.  "That's  the  bravest  thing  you  ever  did, 
Winn,"  said  he,  as  he  laid  it  carefully  down. 
"  That  ought  to  stop  court-martial  proceedings." 

"That,"  answered  Winn,  "is  a  different  mat 
ter.  I  don't  ask  any  mercy.  I  would  have  been 
better  off  this  minute  if  he  or  Brayton  had  shot 
me  on  the  spot." 

There  was  silence  a  moment  as  he  turned  away 
and  presently  seated  himself  at  the  little  table,  his 
head  dropping  forward  on  his  arms.  Then  Col 
labone  stepped  up  and  placed  a  hand  upon  his 
shoulder. 

"  Winn,  my  boy,  I  should  lie  if  I  said  you  ought 
not  to  feel  this,  but  there's  such  a  thing  as  brood- 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  229 

ing  too  much.  You'll  harm  yourself  if  you  go 

on  like  this.  You Here!  let  me  take  that 

in  to  Barclay.  Let  him  speak  for  me;  I'm 
damned  if  it  isn't  too  much  for  me!" 

But  Winn's  head  was  never  lifted  as  the  doctor 
went  his  way. 

Later  that  night  the  post  adjutant  dropped  in. 
He  and  Winn  had  never  been  on  cordial  terms, 
but  the  staff  officer  was  shocked  and  troubled  at 
the  increasing  ravages  in  the  once  proud  and 
handsome  face  of  the  cavalryman.  "Winn,"  he 
said,  in  courteous  tone,  "  the  colonel  directs  exten 
sion  of  your  limits  to  include  the  parade,  and — 
and  to  visit  Captain  Barclay,  who  wants  to  see 
you  this  evening,  if  you  feel  able.  It's  only  next 
door,  you  know,"  he  added,  vaguely.  Then, 
"Isn't  there  anything  I  can  do?" 

That  night  just  after  taps  old  Hannibal  ad 
mitted  the  tall  young  officer,  and  ushered  him 
into  a  brightly  lighted  room,  where,  rather  pale 
and  wan,  but  with  a  kindly  smile  on  his  face, 
Galahad  Barclay  lay  back  in  his  reclining  chair, 
and  held  out  a  thin,  white  hand. 

"Welcome,  "Winn,"  was  all  he  said,  and  then 
the  old  negro  slid  out  and  closed  the  door. 

"There  are  Oirish  and  Oirish,"  as,  quoting 
Mulvaney,  has  been  said  before.  Once  assured 


230  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

that  no  further  proceedings  were  to  be  taken 
against  him  for  his  iniquitous  lapse  the  day  of  the 
rush  to  Crockett  Springs,  Captain  Mullane  con 
cluded  that  he  must  stand  high  in  favor  at  court 
and  that  further  self-denial  and  abstinence  were 
uncalled  for,  especially  in  view  of  the  successes 
achieved  for  him  by  the  small  detachment  of  his 
party  led  by  Lieutenant  Winn.  Mullane  was  a 
gallant  soldier  in  the  field,  from  sheer  love  of 
fighting,  and  the  same  trait  when  warmed  by 
whiskey  made  him  a  nuisance  in  garrison.  Not  a 
week  was  he  home  from  his  successful  scout  when 
he  broke  out  in  a  new  place,  and  this  time  he 
found  instant  accommodation. 

Little  of  the  stolen  property  was  recovered  by 
the  searching  squad  sent  out  as  the  result  of 
Marsden's  revelations.  That  voluble  scoundrel 
was  in  the  guard-house,  awaiting  trial  by  general 
court-martial.  Cavalry  drills  were  resumed  again, 
and  after  each  morning's  work  the  officers 
gathered  in  considerable  force  at  the  club-room. 
There  had  been,  fcoth  in  the  infantry  and  in  the 
cavalry,  vast  speculation  as  to  the  outcome  of 
Winn's  arrest  and  Barclay's  mishap.  But  men, 
as  a  rule,  spoke  of  the  matter  with  bated  breath. 
Mullane,  Bralligan,  and  the  one  or  two  Irish  ex- 
sergeants  in  the  command,  known  locally  as  the 
Faugh-a-Ballaghs,  however,  waxed  hilariously  in- 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  231 

solent  in  their  comments.  Nothing  short  of  dis 
missal  should  be  Winn's  sentence,  and  nothing 
short  of  a  challenge  be  Barclay's  course.  It  was 
with  something  akin  to  amaze  that  Mullane  re 
ceived  on  the  sixth  day  after  Winn's  arrest  official 
notification  of  his  release  and  restoration  to  duty. 
It  was  with  something  akin  to  incredulous  wrath 
that  an  hour  later  he  caught  sight  of  the  liberated 
lieutenant  issuing  from  Barclay's  quarters,  not 
his  own,  and  with  Barclay  leaning  trustfully  on 
his  arm. 

Apology  accepted !  Explanations  tendered !  All 
settled,  and  without  a  meeting  on  the  field  of 
honor!  "Whurroo!  but  hwat's  the  cavalry 
comin'  to?"  howled  Mullane  over  the  consequent 
cups  at  the  sutler's  store  and  club-room,  Fuller 
aiding  and  abetting  with  more  liquor.  Up  the 
hill  to  the  post  lurched  the  big  captain  that  very 
afternoon,  and  into  the  card-room  where  some  of 
his  cronies  were  gathered,  Bralligan  among  them, 
and  the  untrustworthy  Hodge.  Any  one  with 
half  an  eye  could  see  there  was  mischief  in  the 
wind,  for  nothing  caused  these  old-time  Hibernian 
rankers  keener  suffering  than  to  have  their  betters 
settle  a  question  without  either  court-martial  or 
a  fight.  Talk  and  jeering  laugh  grew  louder  as 
potations  followed  on  the  heel-taps  of  their  pre 
decessors.  The  mail  from  San  Antonio  got  in  at 


232  A    TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

five  P.M.  that  evening,  and  the  orderly  was  dis 
tributing  letters  as  the  officers  returned  from 
stables.  Winn,  by  invitation,  had  accompanied 
the  major,  and  was  walking  home  with  him,  Mul- 
lane  and  a  crony  or  two  following  at  safe  distance. 
Several  men  saw  the  light  of  relief  in  Winn's  face 
as  he  received,  opened,  and  glanced  into  the  mis 
sive  handed  him. 

"  Has  it  come  ?"  asked  Brooks,  in  genuine  sym 
pathy. 

"Yes,"  answered  Winn,  almost  solemnly.  "A 
check  which  I  am  instructed  to  have  cashed  by 
Fuller,  as  he  has  all  the  currency  in  the  county 
just  now." 

"I  congratulate  you  with  all  my  heart,"  said 
the  major.  "I  suppose  you  will  see  Trott  to 
morrow." 

"I  shall  see  him  to-night,  if  you  will  excuse 
me,  sir.  I'll  go  at  once  to  the  store. — Brayton, 
will  you  come  with  me?" 

Fuller  was  out.  It  was  some  minutes  before 
he  could  be  found  at  the  corral.  Meantime  the 
two  classmates,  reconciled  since  the  long  talk  be 
tween  Barclay  and  Winn,  conversed  in  low,  grave 
tones  in  Fuller's  private  card-room,  where  none 
but  officers  and  his  cronies  were  admitted.  "  The 
trader  looked  queer,"  said  Brayton,  "when  he 
took  the  check,"  but  after  some  fumbling  at  his 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  233 

safe  came  back  with  a  thick  package  of  treasury 
notes,  carefully  counted  out  and  labelled.  On  this 
display  of  wealth  gloated  the  fishy  eyes  of  Mul- 
lane  as  a  moment  later  he  came  reeling  in,  Bralli- 
gan  and  Hodge  at  his  heels. 

To  his  hilarious  salutation  Brayton  gave  short 
answer,  Winn  none  at  all.  Winn's  face  had 
clouded  again,  and  all  the  sad  lines  of  thought 
and  care  seemed  cutting  deep,  despite  the  coming 
of  this  much-needed  relief. 

"Hwat's  ahl  the  lucre,  I  say?"  shouted  the 
Irish  captain,  raging  at  Winn's  tacit  snub. 
"Thousands  of  dollars,  bedad!"  Then  with  leer 
ing  wink  he  turned  to  his  half-muddled  satellites. 
"D'ye  mind,  lads? — ahl  that  for  a  plasther  to 
wounded  honor, — regular  John  Bull  business 
over  again.  That's  the  English  way  of  settlin'  a 
crim.  con.  case.  How  much  did  Barclay  think  it 
wurrth,  Winn?" 

And  the  next  instant  he  lay  floundering  on  the 
floor,  felled  by  a  furious  blow  from  the  subaltern's 
fist. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

ANOTHER  week  opened.  In  honor  of  Captain 
Barclay's  restoration  to  health,  the  Fraziers  had 
issued  invitations  for  a  picnic  to  the  White  Gate. 
Many  of  the  officers  and  ladies  had  accepted. 
Most  of  them  had  been  bidden.  Captain  Mullane 
had  been  on  sick  report  four  days, — contusions 
resulting  from  tumbling  from  a  broken-legged 
chair,  was  the  explanation;  but  every  Pat  in  the 
command  had  his  tongue  in  his  cheek  when  he 
spoke  of  it,  and  of  matters  growing  out  of  the 
"contusions"  mentioned.  Frazier  had  heard 
rumors  of  the  former  fracas,  and  had  notified 
Messrs.  Mullane,  Bralligan,  et  al  that  he  would 
have  no  duelling  in  his  bailiwick;  and  deep  was 
the  mystery  surrounding  certain  consultations 
held  by  night  in  Mullane's  quarters. 

"  The  blood  of  that  young  braggart  be  on  his 
own  head,"  said  Mullane  to  his  henchmen.  "  And 
you,  Hodge,  can  console  the  disconsolate  widow." 

He  had  no  more  doubt  of  the  issue  of  the  con 
templated  combat,  no  more  compunction  in  the 
matter,  than  had  Thackeray's  valiant  and  in 
imitable  little  Gascon,  ne  Cabasse,  in  his  duel 
234 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  235 

with  Lord  Kew.  He  had  long  been  the  leader  of 
the  Hibernian  set,  and,  despite  every  effort  on  the 
part  of  the  witnesses  to  the  affray  at  the  sutler's 
to  keep  the  matter  a  secret,  rumors  got  out,  and 
the  Faugh-a-Ballaghs  knew  their  chief  had  been 
braved  by  that  hated  coxcomb  Winn.  Every  one 
of  them  knew  further  that  Mullane  must  have 
sent  his  demand  for  satisfaction,  despite  the  fact 
that  his  "pistol  oi,"  the  right,  had  been  damaged 
by  the  collision  and  was  not  yet  in  condition  for 
effective  service.  Everybody  who  was  in  the 
secret  knew  that  Mr.  Winn  had  instantly  ac 
cepted,  naming  Brayton  as  his  second,  pistols  as 
the  weapons,  and  suggesting  his  father's  old  duel 
ling  set,  that  had  seen  long  years  and  some  ser 
vice  in  the  old  army,  as  proper  to  the  occasion; 
the  time  and  place,  however,  would  necessarily 
depend  on  the  victim  of  the  knock-down  blow. 
All  Winn  asked  and  urged  was  utter  secrecy 
meantime. 

To  Mullane  there  was  nothing  in  the  episode 
over  which  to  brood  or  worry.  As  dragoon  ser 
geant  in  the  old  days,  he  had  "winged  his  man" 
according  to  the  methods  described  in  "Charles 
O'Malley"  and  practised  occasionally  by  his  su 
periors  in  rank.  He  had  known  many  a  bar-room 
broil,  and  was  at  home  with  pistol,  fists,  or  sabre, 
— no  mean  antagonist  when  not  unsteadied  by 


236  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

liquor.  He  had  now  a  chance  of  meeting  on  the 
field  one  of  the  set  he  secretly  hated,  "the  snob- 
ocracy  of  the  arrumy,"  and  he  meant  to  shoot  the 
life  out  of  Harry  Winn  if  straight  shooting  would 
do  it.  That  Winn  had  taken  advantage  of  him 
and  knocked  him  down  when  he  was  drunk  was 
excuse  sufficient  for  the  crime  he  planned;  that 
he  had  brought  the  blow  upon  himself  by  an  in 
sult  ten  times  more  brutal  was  a  matter  that  con 
cerned  him  not  at  all.  He  had  no  wife  or  child 
to  worry  about:  Mrs.  Mullane  and  the  various 
progeny  were  old  enough  to  look  out  for  them 
selves,  as  indeed  most  of  them  had  long  been  ac 
customed  to  do.  Mullane  thirsted  for  the  coming 
meeting,  and  for  the  prominence  its  outcome 
would  give  him  among  all  good  soldiers  all  over 
Texas. 

And  as  for  "Winn, — he  who  had  come  riding 
home  from  his  successful  scout  barely  a  fortnight 
before,  buoyant,  hopeful,  almost  happy, — the 
change  that  had  come  over  him  was  something  all 
men  saw  and  none  could  fully  account  for.  Cash 
ing  the  draft  from  the  bank  at  San  Antonio,  he 
had  now  enough  to  take  Trott's  receipt  in  full 
for  the  value  of  the  stolen  stores,  even  to  some 
recovered  plunder,  slightly  damaged  by  rough 
handling  and  by  rain.  He  would  then  still  have 
some  four  hundred  dollars,  and  he  aske'd  his  wife 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  237 

for  certain  bills  that  had  been  frequently  coming 
to  her  accompanied  by  urgent  demands.  Laura 
said  she  had  not  kept  them.  Which  ought  to  be 
paid  first?  he  asked.  Which  had  been  longest 
outstanding?  Laura's  reply  was  that  she  did  not 
know,  but  if  he  had  got  that  money  from  San 
Antonio  at  last  she  ought  to  have  some  to  send 
to  Madame  Chalmette.  She  positively  had  not  a 
dinner-dress  fit  to  be  seen.  Winn  did  not  even 
glance  at  the  open  doors  of  a  big  closet,  hung 
thick  with  costly  gowns  his  wife  had  hardly  worn 
at  all,  but  that  now,  she  said,  were  out  of  style. 
There  were  other  matters  to  be  thought  of  than 
dinner-gowns,  he  told  her,  gravely,  and  her  face 
clouded  at  once.  She  had  almost  forgotten  the 
troubles  of  the  week  gone  by. 

He  went  down  to  his  den  and  sat  there  think 
ing.  What  ought  he  to  do?  what  should  he  do 
with  this  money?  Every  cent  of  it  would  be 
swallowed  up  if  he  squared  those  commissary  ac 
counts  and  turned  the  balance  into  checks  and 
sent  it  off  to  pay  these  bills,  and  then  if  Mullane's 
bullet  sped  true  to  its  mark,  what  would  there  be 
to  take  Laura  and  the  baby  North?  "Home"  he 
dared  not  say.  She  had  no  home:  Collabone's 
diagnosis  of  that  situation  was  correct.  Then, 
too,  if  Mullane's  pistol  did  not  fail  him,  there 
would  be  no  way  in  which  that  mysterious  friend 


238  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

and  beneficiary  of  his  father's  could  ever  be 
repaid.  What  right  had  he  to  use  one  cent  of 
this  money  for  any  purpose  whatever,  when 
another  day  might  be  his  last?  Winn  wished  he 
still  had  the  San  Antonio  check  instead  of  these 
bulky  packages  of  greenbacks.  They  were  now 
locked  up  in  Trott's  safe,  unbroken,  pending  ac 
tion  at  Department  Head-Quarters  on  the  new 
schedule  sent  thither,  based  on  the  recovery  of 
some  of  the  damaged  stores.  He  thought  of  it 
all  as,  long  before  gun-fire  that  morning,  the 
black  care  of  his  life  came  and  roused  him  from 
his  fitful  sleep  and  bade  him  face  his  daily,  hourly 
torment.  He  had  risen,  and  as  he  softly  moved 
about  the  room,  thoughtful  for  her,  she  slept  on 
placidly  as  a  happy  child,  soundly  as  slept  the 
nurse  and  the  little  one  in  the  adjoining  room. 

Donning  his  stable  dress,  he  carried  his  boots 
into  the  hall  and  down  the  creaking  stairs,  and  sat 
there,  with  solitary  candle,  at  his  desk,  wearily 
jotting  down  inexorable  figures.  The  dawn  came 
stealing  in  the  eastward  window:  from  aloft 
a  querulous  little  wail  was  uplifted  on  the  still 
ness  of  the  summer  morning.  There  was  no 
answering  hush  of  loving,  motherly  voice.  Laura 
could  not  stand  wakeful  nights.  He  tiptoed 
swiftly  up  again  to  rouse  the  nurse  in  case  she 
too  slept  on,  but  he  heard  her  hand  beating 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  239 

drowsy  time  on  the  coverlet,  and  the  soothing 
"Shoo,  shoo,  shoo,"   with  which  she  communi 
cated  her   own   heaviness  to   her  little   charge: 
Laura  had  turned  uneasily,  he  saw  as  he  peeped 
in  at  the  open  doorway,  but  again  slept  soundly, 
her  lovely  face  now  full  turned  towards  him,  half 
pillowed  on  the  white  and  rounded  arm  he  used 
to  kiss  with  such  rapture  in  the  touch  of  his  lips. 
Her  white  brow  was  shaded  by  the  curling  wealth 
of  her  soft,   shining   hair.      The   white   eyelids 
drooped    their    long    curving    lashes    over    the 
rounded  cheeks,  faintly  tinged  with  the  rosy  hue 
of  youth  and  health.     The  exquisite  lips,  warm, 
delicately  moulded,  parted  just  enough  to  reveal 
the    white,    even,    pearly    teeth.      The    snowy, 
rounded  throat  and  neck  and  shoulders  were  en 
hanced  in  their  beauty  by  the  filmy  fabric  of  her 
gown,  beneath  which  her  full  bosom  slowly  rose 
and  fell  in  healthful  respiration.    How  beautiful 
she  was,  how  fair  a  picture  of  almost  girlish  in 
nocence  and  freedom  from  all  worldly  dross  or 
care!     Even  now,  in  the  light  of  all  the  gradual 
revelation  of  her  shallow,  selfish  vanity,  the  heart 
of  the  man  yearned  over  and  softened  to  her.    If 
he  had  only  realized, — if  he  had  only  known  more 
of  the  world  and  life  and  duty  other  than  mere 
soldier  obligation,  how  different  all  might  have 
been!     What  right  had  he  to  ask  her  to  be  his 


240  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

wife?    She  should  have  wedded  a  man  many  years 
her  senior, — one  fitted  to  guide  and  direct  her, — 
able  to  lavish  luxury  upon  her.    It  wasn't  all  her 
fault  that  she  had  been  so  thoughtless,  poor  girl! 
What   else    had   her   mother   been    before   her? 
What  else  could  one  expect  of  her?    Would  she 
miss  him?  he  wondered.     Not  long, — not  long, 
thank  God!    Beauty  such  as  hers  would  soon  win 
for  her  and  baby  home  and  comfort  such  as  he 
could  never  give.    That  was  all  over.    Something 
almost  like  a  sob  rose  from  his  heart  as  he  bent 
and  softly  touched  with  his  lips  the  floating  curl 
above  her  temple,  then  turned  back  to  resume  his 
work  and  reface  his  troubles.     Thank  God,  Mul- 
lane's  pistol  would  soon  end  them  all  and  save 
him  from  the  sin  that  was  in  his  soul  the  day  he 
took  his  own  revolver  with  him.     She  was  sleep 
ing  still  when  the  morning  gun  shook  the  shutter 
of  her  window  and  he  went  forth  to  meet  the 
sorrows  of  another  day,  as  he  had  met  those  of  the 
past, — alone. 

The  air  was  strangely  still,  yet  the  smoke  from 
the  kitchen  chimneys  back  of  the  barracks  settled 
downward  about  the  adobe  capping  or  drifted 
aimlessly  along  the  roof-trees.  Down  in  the 
stream-bed  and  over  about  the  low  bluffs  of  the 
farther  shore,  swallows  and  sand-martins  were 
shooting  and  slanting  about  their  nests  in  clamor- 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

ous,  complaining  gyration.  The  flag,  run  up  to 
the  topmast  at  the  crack  of  the  gun,  hung  limp 
and  lifeless,  without  so  much  as  a  nutter.  Away 
to  the  northwest,  over  the  pine  crests  of  the  range, 
a  belt  of  billowy  cloud  gleamed  snow-white  at 
their  summits,  but  frowned  dark  and  ominous  un 
derneath.  Huge  masses  of  cumulus,  balloon-like, 
thrust  distended  cheeks  to  the  morning  kiss  of  the 
sun;  but  these  were  well  down  to  the  west.  The 
orient  and  the  zenith  skies  were  fleckless.  Over 
at  the  stables  two  four-mule  teams  were  hitching 
in,  and  army-wTagons  were  being  laden  with  tent- 
age,  luncheon-baskets,  ice,  boxes  of  bottled  beer, 
band  instruments,  and  the  like,  all  going  ahead  to 
the  White  Gate,  while  Frazier's  bandsmen  were 
to  follow  in  another  as  soon  as  they  had  finished 
breakfast.  Their  duty  would  be  to  set  up  the 
tents,  the  dancing-pavilion,  and  the  lunch-tables 
on  the  level  green  in  a  lovely  dell  a  mile  within 
the  gates,  and  have  everything  in  readiness 
against  the  coming  of  the  joyous  party  from  the 
post.  It  was  planned  to  carry  the  women-folk 
and  such  men  as  couldn't  ride  in  the  available 
ambulances  and  spring  wagons,  while  the  cava 
liers  would  canter  along  on  horseback.  They 
would  lunch  at  one,  dance,  fish,  and  flirt  through 
the  afternoon  hours,  have  a  supplementary  bite 
and  beer  towards  five  o'clock,  and  drive  home- 
16 


242  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

ward  before   dark.      "Captain   Barclay,   as   the 
guest  of  honor/'  said  Mrs.  Frazier,  would  go  with 
her  and  'Manda  in  her  own  vehicle,  a  venerable 
surrey.     The  colonel  would  drive,  and  Miss  Fra- 
zier,  now  withdrawn  by  a  maternal  order  from 
the  supposed  competition,  in  order  that  'Manda's 
charms  might  concentrate,  was  bidden  to  ride. 
Winn  had  no  thought  of  going.     Mrs.  Frazier 
had  no  thought  that  it  would  be  possible  for  him 
or  Laura  to  go, — the  latter  being  reported  ill  in 
bed, — an(i  therefore  had  found  it  easier  to  com 
ply  with  the  colonel's  dictum  that  they  must  be 
invited,  and  she  did  it  by  dropping  in  and  bidding 
"Miss  Purdy"  say  to  her  mistress  that  she  had 
called  to  inquire  for  her,  and  was  so  sorry,  so  very 
sorry,  that  her  illness  would  prevent  her  coming 
to  the  picnic,  whereupon  Laura  herself  had  ap 
peared  in  becoming  negligee  at  the  head  of  the 
stairs  and  smilingly  assured  the  nonplussed  lady 
that  she  was  so  much  better  she  thought  it  really 
might  do  her  good  to  go.     But  of  this  she  said  no 
word  to  Harry  until,  returning  from  stables  at 
seven  o'clock,  he  was  surprised  to  find    her  up 
and  dressing. 

On  the  homeward  way  he  had  met  Mr.  Bral- 
ligan,  whom  he  passed  without  recognition,  but 
not  without  mental  note  of  the  unusual  circum 
stance,  Bralligan  being  a  late  riser,  as  a  general 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  243 

thing,  and  having  no  business  at  Barclay's  quar 
ters  anyhow.  Brayton  awaited  him  on  the  piazza 
and  drew  his  arm  within  his  own. 

"Mullane  sends  word  that  he'll  be  ready  at 
sunrise  to-morrow,  Harry,  and  I  have  said  we 
were  ready  any  time." 

But  the  young  fellow's  voice  trembled  a  bit  as 
he  anxiously  scanned  his  classmate's  grave,  sol 
emn  face.  It  couldn't  be  that  Winn  was  weak 
ening,  losing  his  nerve.  It  couldn't  be  that. 
But  had  his  trouble  so  weighed  upon  him  that 
he  really  welcomed  the  possible  coming  of  the 
end  ?  Brayton's  was  a  hard  lot  just  now.  As 
siduously  he  was  hiding  from  his  own  captain  all 
indications  of  the  forthcoming  meeting.  Some 
how  he  felt  that  Barclay  would  not  hesitate  to 
disclose  the  project  to  the  post  commander,  and 
then  every  cad  in  Texas  would  jeer  and  crow  and 
say  it  was  Winn  and  he  who  crawfished.  Bar 
clay  had  noted  that  Winn  seemed  avoiding  him 
again,  and  spoke  of  it  to  Brayton,  who  answered 
that  Winn  was  avoiding  everybody  :  he  was  blue 
and  depressed  about  his  affairs. 

"Yet  I  understood  that  he  had  received  more 
than  enough  to  settle  those  commissary  accounts," 
said  the  captain. 

"Oh,  yes,"  answered  Brayton,  "but  there  are 
other  matters."  How  could  he  tell  Barclay  that 


244  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

he  thought  Winn's  love  and  faith  in  his  wife 
were  dead  and  gone  ?  How  could  he  tell  him 
that  Winn  would  touch  no  dollar  of  the  money 
until  he  had  first  met  and  satisfied  another  claim  ? 
Barclay's  suspicions  would  have  been  aroused  at 
once. 

But  Winn  was  having  another  trouble  now. 
Laura  had  set  her  heart  on  going  to  the  picnic, 
and  for  no  other  reason,  she  declared,  than  that 
she  must  show  the  women  there  was  nothing 
amiss.  If  he  and  she,  either  or  both,  should  fail 
to  attend  the  Fraziers'  entertainment,  every  one 
would  say  he  still  believed  her  guilty  of  having  a 
rendezvous  with  Barclay  at  that  unearthly  hour, 
and  that  she  was  unforgiving. 

As  he  had  done  many  a  time  before,  Winn 
yielded.  What  mattered  it?  There  might  be 
only  that  day  for  him.  He  could  accomplish 
nothing  by  absenting  himself.  He  could  aid  in 
brushing  away  any  cloud  upon  her  name  by  go 
ing  and  being  devoted  to  her.  So  go  they  did,  and 
women  who  watched  with  wary  and  suspicious 
eyes  long  remembered  how  fond  and  lover-like 
were  Winn's  attentions  to  his  beautiful  wife; 
how  often  on  the  way  he  rode  to  the  side  of  that 
ambulance  to  say  some  little  word  to  her  ;  how 
anxiously  he  seemed  to  scan  that  lowering  west 
ward  sky,  for  by  the  time  they  reached  the  Blanca 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  245 

gorge  the  cloud-banks  were  climbing  to  the 
zenith  and  the  westward  heavens  were  black  as 
the  cinder-patches  along  the  heights  about  them, 
where  fir  and  spruce  and  stunted  pine  had  strewn 
the  slopes  with  dry,  resinous  carpet,  too  easily 
ignited  by  the  sparks  from  hunter's  pipe  or  camp- 
fire.  At  two  o'clock,  Blythe,  Brooks,  and  Fra- 
zier,  clambering  a  rocky  ridge  to  the  southeast 
of  the  lovely  picnic  cove,  looked  gravely  at  the 
blackening  sky,  then  gravely  into  one  another's 
faces.  "I  think  we  ought  to  start  at  once/'  said 
the  colonel.  "That's  no  place  to  be  caught  in  a 
storm."  And  he  pointed  downward  as  he  spoke. 

At  their  feet  was  the  deep,  grassy  valley, 
hemmed  by  precipitous  bluffs.  The  greensward 
at  the  base  of  the  barrier  ridge  was  soft  and  vel 
vety.  A  richer  soil  nourished  the  roots  of  the 
bunch-grass,  and  all  men  knew  that  more  than 
once  in  bygone  days  the  sudden  swelling  of  the 
brawling  waters  that  came  foaming  and  swirling 
down  the  ravine  from  the  depths  of  the  crested 
heights  within  had  turned  that  beautiful  little 
sheltered  nook  into  a  deep  lake  that  slowly  emp 
tied  itself  through  the  narrow,  twisting,  rocky 
gorge  that  ended  at  the  White  Gate.  On  the 
level  turf  the  dancers  were  merrily  footing  it 
even  now  to  the  music  of  an  inspiring  quadrille, 
the  pretty-  gowns  of  the  women,  the  uniforms  of 


246  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

the  men,  adding  brightness  to  the  picture.  Below 
the  camp  the  mules  and  horses  were  placidly 
grazing  close  by  the  inner  opening  of  the  gorge, 
the  white  covers  of  the  wagons  and  the  snowy 
canvas  of  the  two  or  three  tents  adding  to  the 
picturesqueness  of  the  scene.  All  at  the  feet  of 
the  watching  group  was  life,  laughter,  and  care 
less  joy;  all  beyond  that  merry  scene  a  black  and 
ominous  heaven,  frowning  down  on  gloomy  pine 
and  rocky  hill-side.  The  ceaseless  clamor  of  the 
seething  waters,  as  they  turned  whirling  into  the 
tortuous  gorge,  rose  steadily  above  the  throb  and 
thrill  of  the  dance-music,  and  aloft  those  relent 
less  clouds  sailed  sternly  eastward  over  the  sky. 

Still  the  smoke  from  the  camp-fires  settled  back 
and  shrank  about  the  earth,  as  though  dreading 
the  encounter  with  the  sleeping  forces  of  the  air. 
Then,  as  the  watchful  eyes  of  the  elders  turned 
once  more  up  the  mountain  side,  there  came  a  cry 
from  Brooks.  "  By  God  !  it's  coming  !  There 
isn't  a  second  to  lose  !" 

Frazier,  following  the  direction  of  that  point 
ing  finger,  looked  upward,  saw  the  crestward  firs 
and  pines  and  cedars  bending,  quivering  before  a 
blast  as  yet  unfelt  below,  saw  sheets  of  ashen 
vapor  come  sailing  over  the  hill-tops  and  sweep 
ing  down  the  rocky  sides,  saw  the  whole  moun 
tain  face  turn  black  as  in  a  single  minute,  as 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  247 

though  hiding  from  the  storm  that  came  roaring 
down  the  slope,  then  lighting  up  the  next  instant 
in  dazzling,  purplish  glare,  as  a  zigzag  bolt  of 
lightning  ripped  the  storm-cloud  in  twain,  and  in 
the  instant,  with  crash  and  roar  as  of  a  thousand 
cannon  rolled  into  one,  let  loose  the  deluge  sleep 
ing  in  its  depths.  As  though  Niagara  were  sud 
denly  turned  upon  the  hill-side,  a  vast  volume  of 
water  swept  downward,  hissing,  foaming,  rolling 
over  the  rocks,  and  the  leaping  spray  dashed  high 
in  air,  as  the  black  wealth  of  waters  came  surging 
down  into  the  ravine. 

"A  cloud-burst,  by  all  that's  holy  !"  screamed 
Brooks,  as  he  sprang  down  the  grassy  side  of  the 
bluff.  "  Up  with  you,  up  the  hill-side,  for  your 
lives  !"  The  dancers,  faltering  through  the  sud 
den  flutter  of  the  band,  for  the  first  time  looked 
upward,  and  saw  the  peril.  Then,  men  and 
women,  bandsmen  and  "strikers,"  the  camp 
made  a  wild  rush  up  the  eastward  hill-side.  An 
other  blinding  flash,  another  thunderous  roar  that 
seemed  to  shake  and  loosen  the  rocks  about  them, 
and  in  that  second  of  brilliant,  dazzling  glare  the 
watchers  could  see  the  white  wall  of  the  Blanca 
come  spray-tossing,  seething,  whirling  huge  logs 
and  trees  on  its  outermost  wave,  tumbling  them 
end  over  end,  now  deep-engulfed,  now  high  in 
air, — one  immense,  furious  moving  mountain  of 


248  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

raging  water,  sweeping  towards  them  from  the 
depths  of  the  chasm.  Then,  rolling  and  frothing 
over  its  puny  banks  in  the  valley  below,  a  choco 
late  flood,  foam-crested,  spread  right  and  left 
through  the  deserted  camp,  licking  up  the  cook- 
fires,  sweeping  camp-chairs  and  tables  off  their 
legs,  bodily  lifting  wagons  and  ambulances  and 
sending  them  waltzing  to  the  wild  music  of  the 
storm  over  the  flats  where  twinkled  dainty-slip 
pered  feet  the  moment  before,  then  bore  them 
away  towards  the  inner  mouth  of  the  gorge  just 
in  time  to  mix  them  up  with  such  frantically 
struggling  mules  as  through  native  obstinacy  had 
resisted  the  impulse  to  scamper  to  higher  ground 
while  yet  there  was  time.  Worst  sight  of  all, 
right  there  in  the  midst  of  the  logs,  chairs,  wagon- 
beds,  that  came  swirling  beneath  them;  was  a 
despairing  woman's  struggling  form,  revealed  by 
a  woman's  white  dress. 

"Merciful  God!"  shrieked  Mrs.  Faulkner; 
"  it's  Laura  Winn.  She  went  up  towards  the  falls 
not  ten  minutes  ago." 

Vain  fool  !  What  could  have  been  her  object  ? 
Barclay,  never  dancing,  had  been  looking  smil 
ingly  on.  Both  the  Frazier  girls  had  been  led, 
not  too  willing,  away  by  partners.  Four  sets  had 
been  formed,  and  Mrs.  Winn,  pleading  fatigue, 
had  asked  to  be  excused,  had  sauntered  past  Bar- 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  249 

clay's  seat,  and,  before  his  eyes,  had  turned  up 
the  narrow,  winding,  sheltered  pathway  by  the 
Blanca.  Had  she  dreamed  it  possible  that  he 
would  follow?  Follow  her  he  did  not.  Was 
it — a  far  more  charitable  thought — in  search 
of  Harry  she  had  gone?  Sombre  and  absent- 
minded,  he  had  earlier  slipped  away  among  the 
trees,  avoiding  even  Brayton.  But  now  Barclay 
was  seen  on  the  near  side  of  the  torrent,  limping 
up  and  along  the  steep  slope,  in  imminent  danger 
of  slipping  in,  swinging  in  his  hand  a  long  lariat 
that  he  had  drawn  from  the  nearest  wagon  when 
the  wild  up-hill  fight  began.  They  remembered 
later  that  he  was  the  last  man  out  of  the  hollow. 
Already  Brooks,  Brayton,  De  Lancy,  and  half  a 
dozen  men  were  hurrying  along  the  hill-side  to 
aid,  but  Brayton  reached  him  first  and  seized  his 
arm  just  as  another  cry  went  up  from  the  hill 
top, — just  as  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  seeth 
ing  torrent  the  tall  figure  of  Harry  Winn  came 
bounding  through  the  stunted  trees,  and,  hatless, 
wild-eyed,  he  seemed  searching  the  tossing  mass 
of  wreckage  on  the  bosom  of  the  waters.  An 
other  instant  still  a  white  hand  was  waved  aloft 
in  their  midst  ;  then  a  white  arm  encircling  a 
log,  a  terror-stricken  white  face,  all  showed  dimly 
one  moment  before  again  borne  underneath,  hid 
den  by  the  yellow  body  of  a  whirling  ambulance, 


250  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

and  in  that  one  instant,  far  leaping,  Winn 
plunged  into  the  torrent  and  struck  out  savagely 
to  reach  his  wife. 

Vain,  hopeless  effort  !  Eddying  in  huge  circle 
at  the  rocky  shoulder  just  above  the  entrance  to 
the  gorge,  the  wild  waters  near  the  eastward  shore 
bore  their  burden,  jarring  and  crushing,  close 
under  the  heights  on  which  were  clustered  the 
panic-stricken  revellers  from  Fort  Worth.  But 
on  the  farther  side,  as  it  narrowed  towards  the 
entrance,  the  hissing  torrent  tore  like  a  mill-horse 
on  its  way.  Into  this  heaving  flood  leaped  Winn, 
and,  before  the  eyes  of  screaming  women  and 
helpless,  horror-stricken  men,  was  sucked  into  the 
rush  and  whirl  of  foaming  waves  sweeping  resist 
less  through  the  rocky  canon,  away  towards  the 
fair  White  Gate,  away  out  and  beyond  the  lovely 
foot-hills,  tossed  and  battered  and  crushed  by 
whirling  logs,  dragged  under  by  the  branches  of 
uprooted  trees,  borne  away  at  last,  rolling,  gasp 
ing,  still  feebly,  faintly  struggling,  until  on  the 
broad  lowlands  the  torrent  spent  the  fury  of  its 
concentrated  spite,  and,  swiftly  still,  but  no 
longer  raging  as  when  curbed  and  held  by  the 
barrier  gate,  the  Blanca  foamed  away  to  strew  the 
tokens  of  the  fearful  storm  right  and  left  for 
miles  along  its  banks,  and  to  land  all  that  was 
mortal  of  Harry  Winn,  bruised,  battered,  yet 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  251 

so  placid  in  death  that  strong  men's  voices  broke 
when  telling  how  they  found  him,  resting  with 
weary  head  upon  his  arm  on  the  sandy  flat 
that  lay  just  beneath  the  little  summer-house  on 
the  overhanging  bluffs, — just  where  Laura  had 
looked  down  over  the  misty  shallows  from  that 
very  height  the  morning  her  soldier  husband  had 
reached  his  home  at  reveille  and  found  her — 
wanting. 

They  bore  her  wailing  home  that  night,  wid 
owed  and  crying,  Woe  is  me  !  yet  with  what  wild 
thoughts  throbbing  through  her  brain!  Who 
was  it  that  came  leaping  to  her  aid  as  she  felt  her 
self  again  dragged  under  in  that  swirling  eddy? 
Whose  voice  was  it  that  rang  upon  her  drowning 
ears?  Whose  strong  arms  had  clasped  and  sus 
tained  her  and  held  her  head  above  water,  while 
other  strong  hands,  hauling  at  the  lariat  made 
fast  about  his  waist,  drew  them  steadily  to  shore? 
Then  angels  came  and  ministered  to  her, — the 
women, — while  the  men  clustered  about  her 
dripping  hero,  Galahad.  Only  for  a  moment, 
though,  for  there  was  mounting  bareback  in  hot 
haste  and  thundering  away  at  mad  gallop,  de 
spite  the  drenching  rain,  for  he  who  had  saved 
the  wife  implored  those  who  could  ride  to  haste 
and  save  the  husband. 

All  Fort   Worth   again  went   into   mourning 


252  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

with  the  setting  of  that  woful  sun.  It  had  borne 
its  fill  and  more  of  battle  and  of  sudden 
death. 

And  people  resurrected  Hodge's  stories  later 
on,  though  Hodge  himself  was  readily  excused. 
They  recalled  how  Channing's  widow  and  little 
ones  were  cared  for  after  that  officer's  untimely 
death  in  the  shadows  of  old  Laramie  Peak.  They 
recalled  Porter's  ailing  wife  and  the  sea-side 
sojourn,  and  the  old  ordnance  sergeant's  family 
burned  out  at  Sanders.  It  wasn't  many  days  be 
fore  the  lovely,  drooping  widow  of  poor  Harry 
Winn  was  quite  well  enough  to  be  sent  the  long 
journey  to  the  North;  yet  some  weeks  elapsed 
before  she  would  consent,  she  said,  to  be  torn  from 
her  beloved's  grave.  When,  gently  as  possible, 
she  was  told  in  July  that  the  quarters  she  still 
occupied  were  needed  for  her  husband's  successor, 
she  proposed  to  spend  a  few  weeks  with  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Faulkner,  but  they  were  forced  to  limit  that 
visit  to  a  few  days.  There  was  no  reason  why  she 
could  not  have  started  in  June,  for  that  devoted 
mother,  Mrs.  Waite,  had  dropped  temporarily  the 
pursuit  of  Senators  and  Representatives  in  Con 
gress  assembled,  and  wired  that  she  would  meet 
her  daughter  in  New  Orleans,  and  the  command 
ing  general  at  San  Antonio  notified  her  that 
abundant  means  for  all  her  homeward  journey- 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  253 

ing  for  self  and  nurse  and  baby  were  in  his  hands. 
She  thought  she  ought  to  stay  until  all  poor 
Harry's  affairs  were  straightened  out;  and  Fra- 
zier  had  to  say  that  that,  too,  was  all  attended  to. 
Yet  all  the  while  she  seemed  to  think  that  she 
could  not  sufficiently  thank  the  heroic  Captain 
Barclay,  and  begged  to  see  him  for  that  purpose, 
also  to  consult  him,  day  after  day,  until — was 
there  collusion? — he  suddenly  received  orders  to 
proceed  to  San  Antonio  on  court-martial  duty, 
and  was  on  his  way  before  she  knew  it, — before, 
said  the  Fraziers,  she  could  get  ready  to  go  with 
him.  Nor  was  he  there  when  she  passed  through, 
under  Fuller's  escort,  to  the  Gulf,  nor  did  she  see 
him  once  again  in  Texas.  Letters,  fervently 
grateful  letters,  came  to  him  from  Washington, 
whither  she  had  flitted,  and  where,  it  is  reported, 
she  was  to  have  a  clerkship.  But  when  people 
spoke  of  her  to  Barclay  he  smiled  gravely  and 
had  nothing  to  say.  All  her  late  husband's  ac 
counts  were  declared  settled  and  closed  within  a 
very  few  months,  and  all  men  knew  by  that  time 
whose  hand  it  was  that  had  lifted  the  burden; 
yet  Laura  Waite  had  lost  the  last  vestige  of  her 
power  where  Galbraith  Barclay  was  concerned. 

Long  before  the  fall  set  in,  Barclay  returned 
to  his  post  of  duty,  eagerly  welcomed  by  officers 
and  men,  except  the  Faugh-a-Ballaghs.  Some- 


254  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

body  had  sent  from  San  Antonio  a  marble  head 
stone  for  Winn's  lonely  grave  in  the  little  ceme 
tery.  Somebody  had  secured  for  his  widow  that 
clerkship  in  the  Treasury  Department,  which 
within  another  year  she  left  to  wed  a  veteran  ad 
mirer  of  her  mother,  to  the  unappeasable  wrath 
of  that  well-preserved  matron  and  the  secret  joy 
of  'Manda  Frazier,  who  thought  that  now  perhaps 
the  eyes  of  Galahad  would  open  to  her  own  many 
charms  of  mind  and  person.  Yet  they  did  not. 
Somebody  in  a  childish,  sprawling  hand  was 
writing  letters  every  week  to  the  doughboy 
trooper,  who  by  that  time  had  the  best  drilled 
company  at  Worth,  owing,  said  the  Faugh-a- 
Ballaghs,  when  forced  to  admit  the  fact,  to  Bray- 
ton's  abilities  and  to  an  Irish  sergeant.  Barclay's 
weekly  mail  was  bigger  than  that  of  anybody  else 
except  the  commanding  officer,  whose  missives, 
however,  were  mainly  official,  and  the  number  of 
letters  penned  in  feminine  or  childish  hands 
seemed,  like  Galahad's  godchildren,  ever  on  the 
increase.  Mrs.  Blythe  came  back  from  leave, 
bonnier  than  ever,  and  blissful  beyond  compare 
in  the  possession  of  secrets  she  could  not  share 
with  even  her  oldest  cronies,  yet'that  leaked  out 
in  ways  no  man  could  hope  to  stop.  Ned  Law 
rence's  children  were  well,  happy,  thriving, — 
little  Jim  at  Barclay's  home  with  other  godsons, 


A   TROOPER   GALAHAD.  255 

two  or  three,  where  a  widowed  sister  cared  for 
them  as  for  her  own,  so  said  Mrs.  Blythe  when 
fairly  cornered,  while  Ada  was  at  a  famous  old 
Connecticut  school  not  far  from  the  Barclay 
homestead. 

"Good  heavens!"  said  Blythe,  one  day  in  late 
October,  "  these  women  have  powers  of  divination 
that  would  be  priceless  at  police  head-quarters. 
Why,  they've  got  hold  of  facts  I  thought  only 
Mrs.  Blythe  and  I  knew, — facts  that  Barclay 
would  have  kept  concealed  from  every  one,  but 
that  we  simply  can't  deny." 

And  so,  little  by  little,  the  details  of  some,  at 
least,  of  Galahad's  benefactions  became  known, 
though  no  man  knew  how  many  more  were  held 
in  reserve.  For  three  long  years  he  lived  his 
simple,  studious,  dutiful  life  at  Worth,  a  man 
the  soldiers  and  their  wives  and  children  learned 
to  love  and  look  up  to  as  their  model  of  all  that 
was  kind  and  humane  (they  well-nigh  worshipped 
him  at  Christmas  times), — a  man  his  brother  offi 
cers  of  the  better  class  honored  as  friend  and 
comrade,  worth  their  whole  trust  and  esteem,  and 
from  the  armor  of  whose  reserve  and  tolerance 
the  shafts  of  the  envious  and  malicious  glanced 
harmless  into  empty  air. 

There  were  women,  old  and  young,  who 
thought  him  lacking  in  more  ways  than  one.  The 


256  A   TROOPER   GALAHAD. 

Fraziers  said  not  much,  but  looked  unutterable 
things  when  they  went  North  on  leave  and  peo 
ple  asked  for  Galahad.  It  was  a  family  tradition 
that  he  had  treated  'Manda  very  badly;  that  is, 
mamma  said  as  much,  but  the  elder  sister  had 
views  of  her  own  not  entirely  in  harmony  with 
those  of  her  beloved  parent.  'Manda  herself 
found  consolation  by  marrying  in  the  army  not 
two  years  later,  and  her  husband  thinks  to  ^  this 
very  day  that  Barclay,  with  all  his  wealth,  se 
cretly  envies  him  his  treasure,  though  admitting, 
in  those  lucid  intervals  to  which  so  many  lords 
are  subject,  that  perhaps  Barclay  wasn't  so  con 
foundedly  unlucky  after  all.  It  was  at  their 
quarters  some  years  later  still,  at  a  far-distant 
post,  that  in  the  course  of  an  evening's  call, 
in  company  \vith  his  host,  Lieutenant-Colonel 
Brooks,  the  chronicler  of  a  portion,  at  least,  of 
this  episode  of  old-time  army  life  was  favored 
with  the  most  important  facts  of  all. 

"What  do  you  think  !"  said  the  stout  possessor 
of  Mrs.  'Manda's  matured  and  rounded  charms, 
as  he  came  "Bustling  in  with  the  Army  and  Navy 
in  his  hand,  "Galahad  Barclay's  married  at  last. 
Here  it  is  :  To  Ada,  only  daughter  of  the  late 
Brevet  Lieutenant-Colonel  Lawrence,  — th  U.  S. 
Cavalry." 

"Ada    Lawrence!       That    child!"     screamed 


A   TROOPER  GALAHAD.  257 

madame,  with  eyes  and  drawl  expansive.  "  Well, 
of  ail- 
But  others,  who  have  seen  her  in  her  happy 
wifehood,  declare  that  Ada  Lawrence  grew  up  to 
be  one  of  the  loveliest  of  the  lovely  girls  that 
married  in  the  army, — and  they  are  legion. 


THE   END. 
/<?  JfSL. 


By  A.  Conan  Doyle. 


A  Desert  Drama. 

BEING  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  THE  KOROSKO.    With  thirty-two  full-page 
illustrations.     I2mo.     Cloth,  ornamental,  $1.50. 

"  The  author  has  a  splendid  chance  to  use  his  descriptive  powers  and  splendid 
material  to  draw  contrasts  in  nationalities  and  to  compare  civilization  with  bar 
barity.  This  he  has  done  very  successfully,  and  the  '  Desert  Drama'  forms  an 
interesting  narrative.  Besides  his  splendid  description  of  the  desert  and  his  por 
traiture  of  the  cruel  Dervishes  and  their  fierce  religious  zeal,  the  author  has  given 
each  of  his  characters  a  distinctiveness  which  is  marked  out  very  cleverly."— 
Philadelphia  Evening  Telegraph. 

"  Full  of  excitement  and  passing  from  one  crisis  to  another  with  true  dramatic 
force.  The  author  has  been  inexorable,  too,  for  a  novelist  of  his  usually  amiable 
predilections.  He  started  out  to  tell  a  tragic  tale,  and  he  adheres  to  his  purpose, 
two  of  his  travellers  losing  their  lives  in  the  bitter  misfortune  befalling  the  party 
that  comes  up  the  Nile  through  Nubia  so  gayly  and  so  fearlessly.  The  happiness 
of  the  people  on  the  Korosko  is  turned  to  woe  of  the  most  terrifying  description, 
just  how  we  leave  the  reader  to  find  out  for  himself,  only  noting  that  Dr.  Doyle 
has  struck  out  on  a  line  comparatively  new  for  him  in  this  book,  and  that  he  has 
treated  it  with  no  diminution  of  his  skill  as  a  narrator.  The  book  is  readable  from 
beginning  to  end." — New  York  Tribune, 

"With  the  opening  paragraph,  the  reader's  interest  is  awakened,  to  remain 
and  to  gain  in  attentiveness  with  the  progress  and  development  of  the  plot  to  the 
final  chapter.  A  novel  in  which  the  imagination  of  its  author  is  observed  to 
broaden  out  and  to  search  for  incident  beyond  ordinary  fields  of  discovery,  and 
yet  to  adorn  the  narrative  it  weaves  with  a  staying  interest  that  is  both  living  and 
timely — such  a  novel  possesses  not  a  little  of  the  spirit  of  the  busy,  purposeful 
days  in  which  we  live,  and  contains  virility  enough  and  striking  motif,  sufficient  to 
render  it  at  once  and  lastingly  popular.  Those  qualities  Dr.  Doyle's  latest  novel 
has  in  a  telling  degree.  It  is  thoroughly  a  novel  of  to-day,  full  of  interest,  spirited, 
thrilling,  and  bright  with  the  most  vivid  of  pictures  for  the  surpassing  pleasure 
both  of  the  traveler  and  the  stay-at-home.  The  author  has  evidently  visited  the 
places  of  which  he  so  fluently  and  pleasurably  writes,  and  has  been  a  participator 
in  some  stirring  desert  scenes,  or  he  surely  could  not  have  written  so  acceptably 
of  them  as  he  does  in  the  present  tale."— Boston  Courier. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


By  Joseph  Hatton, 


The  Vicar. 

I2mo.     Cloth,  $1.25. 


When  Greek  Meets  Greek. 

A  Tale  of  Love  and  War.     With  ten  full-page  illustrations  by  B. 

WEST  CLINEDINST.     Large  I2mo.     Cloth  extra,  $1.50. 

New  Edition.     Paper,  50  cents. 

"  The  present  story  is  one  that  is  calculated  to  stir  the  deepest  feelings  that 
enter  into  human  experience.  It  is  of  the  masterly  order,  and  therefore  will  confi 
dently  command  readers  even  while  inviting  them." — Boston  Courier. 

"  Joseph  Hatton  has  written  many  successful  volumes  of  incident,  but  in  none 
of  them  has  he  given  us  a  more  stirring  romance  than  in  his  latest  novel,  '  When 
Greek  Meets  Greek.'  The  characters  are  drawn  with  a  skilful  hand,  and  the 
scenes  follow  each  other  in  rapid  succession,  each  teeming  with  interest  and  vigor." 
—Boston  Advertiser. 


The  Banishment  of  Jessop  Blythe. 

In  Lippincotfs  Series  of  Select  Novels.     I2mo.     Cloth,  J0I.OO; 
paper,  50  cents. 

"  It  is  one  of  the  strongest  stories  of  the  year,  remarkably  graphic  in  its  de 
scriptions  of  the  wild  and  wonderful  scenery  amidst  which  its  action  is  located, 
and  equally  remarkable  for  the  character  drawing  of  the  real  men  and  women  who 
figure  in  it." — Boston  Home  Journal, 

"  The  author  has  depicted  clearly  a  true  socialistic  organization  on  a  small 
scale,  which  seems  as  though  it  might  have  been  founded  on  fact.  It  is  a  strong 
story,  extremely  well  told,  and  will  attract  attention  as  much  for  its  socialistic  ideas 
as  for  its  romantic  features." — San  Francisco  Chronicle. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


By  Florence  Belknap  Gilmour, 

TRANSLATED   FROM  THE  FRENCH   OF 

LfiON  DE  TINSEAU. 
I2mo.     Cloth,  $l.oo  per  volume. 


In  Quest  of  the  Ideal. 

•'It  possesses  distinct  interest,  and  there  are  not  a  few  passages  which  com 
mand  our  deepest  feelings." — Philadelphia  Evening  Bulletin. 

"  This  story  owes  much  of  its  charm  to  the  skill  of  the  translator,  Florence 
Belknap  Gilmour,  who  has  translated  several  other  of  this  author's  books,  and  who 
has  been  able  to  catch  his  style  in  a  way  rarely  met  with.  The  characters  are  care 
fully  and  naturally  drawn,  and  there  is  a  great  deal  of  dialogue  which  is  bright."— 
Boston  Times. 

"  The  story  has  a  strong,  uplifting  tone  throughout,  and  the  seriousness  and 
the  crusading  spirit  of  these  modern  seekers  for  the  ideal,  is  shared  by  every  indi 
vidual  in  the  novel,  as  well  as  by  the  reader.  The  translator  reproduces  the  original 
with  a  master  knowledge.  Her  choice  of  words  is  smooth  and  easy,  and  they 
convey  exactly  the  meaning  the  author  meant  they  should." — Boston  Courier. 


A  Forgotten  Debt. 


"  The  story  reads  as  if  it  were  a  true  life  tale,  told  simply  and  with  none  of 
the  unpleasant  element  found  repulsive  to  American  taste  in  many  of  the  latest 
French  novels.  It  is  healthful  and  hearty,  and  well  suited  for  summer's  day  peru 
sal  by  old  or  young." — Boston  Transcript. 

"  A  very  interesting  novel  which  tells  of  life  in  the  French  provinces  and  me 
tropolis,  and  also  in  an  American  frontier  military  post,  and  depicts  the  local 
atmosphere  of  all  three — a  difficult  feat,  which  shows  the  versatility  and  analytical 
and  descriptive  powers  of  the  author.  The  plot  is  interesting,  and  holds  the  atten 
tion  of  the  reader  from  beginning  to  end." — Detroit  Tribune. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


By  Effie  Adelaide  Rowlands. 


The  Fault  of  One. 

I2mo.     Paper,  50  cents;  cloth,  $1.00. 

"The  unhappiness  resultant  upon  the  mismating  of  a  man  and  woman, 
utterly  divergent  in  everything  that  is  essential  to  make  their  union  a  happy  one, 
is  depicted  in  a  forceful,  clear,  and  well-sustained  manner.  It  carries  a  healthy 
moral.  The  author  discloses  considerable  skill  in  character-drawing."— Brooklyn 
Eagle. 


"  My  Pretty  Jane !" 

I2mo.     Cloth,  uncut,  $1.00;  paper,  50  cents. 

"  A  sweeter  love  story  than  '  My  Pretty  Jane'  has  not  been  written  in  many 
a  day.  It  is  just  that,  and  nothing  more.  There  is  no  studied  fine  writing,  no 
moral  essaying,  no  analysis  of  character,— nothing  whatever  to  detract  the  reader's 
attention."— New  York  World. 


The  Spell  of  Ursula. 

I2mo.     Paper,  50  cents  j  cloth,  $1.00. 

"  '  The  Spell  of  Ursula'  is  certainly  a  readable  novel.  It  deals  with  that  most 
difficult  material,  the  common-place  every-day  life  that  everybody  knows.  The 
writer  invests  the  simple  things  of  life  with  a  charm  which  admits  her  at  once  to 
the  reader's  friendship."— Minneapolis  Tribune. 


A  Faithful  Traitor. 

I2mo.     Paper,  50  cents;  cloth,  $1.00. 

"  In  '  A  Faithful  Traitor'  the  author  has  done  something  more  than  to  place 
"before  us  the  people  and  the  events  of  an  ordinary  love-affair.  It  is  a  story  that 
is  entirely  original  in  its  conception  and  construction,  and  it  is  excellently  worked 
out." — Boston  Courier. 


J.  6,  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


By  Edgar  Fawcett. 


"  Mr.  Fawcett  is  admirably  equipped  to  write  of  life  in  New  York,  the  city 
of  his  birth  (over  forty  years  ago),  of  his  education,  and  of  his  literary  work.  The 
characters  that  he  presents  are  admirably  drawn  in  bold,  clear  lines.  He  observes 
society  keenly,  and  some  of  his  bits  of  '  showing  up'  are  delightfully  done."— 
Washington  Public  Opinion. 

A  Romance  of  Old  New  York. 

Small    I2mo.     Yellow   cloth,  ornamental,  with    polished   yellow 
edges,  $1.00. 

"Clever,  bright,  spirited,  and  even  daring,  this  is  an  ingeniously  written 
romance.  The  leading  figure  in  the  story  is  that  of  Aaron  Burr,  and  we  may  say, 
without  faar  of  contradiction,  that  no  better  picture  of  that  statesman  was  ever 
drawn  by  any  pen." — Boston  Courier. 


Douglas  Duane. 

Square  I2mo.     Paper,  50  cents;  cloth,  $I.OO. 


A  Demoralizing  Marriage. 

Square  I2mo.     Paper,  50  cents;  cloth,  $1.00. 


By  W.  C.  Morrow. 

The  Ape,  the  Idiot,  and  Other  People. 

I2mo.     Ornamentally  bound,  deckle  edges,  $1.25. 

"  This  book  is  a  collection  of  short  tales,  characterized  by  what  may  be  called 
a  spirit  of  imaginative  invention,  the  possession  of  which  is  a  rather  uncommon 
gift  at  the  present  day.  If  Mr.  Morrow  be,  as  we  suppose,  a  new  writer,  his 
future  is  in  his  own  hands." — New  York  Mail  and  Express. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


By  Louis  Becke. 


"  In  this  most  attractive  series  of  stories  of  a  quarter  of  the  planet's  surface  are 
to  be  got  such  delights  as  go  with  life  even  before  literature.  They  fascinate  even 
when  they  excite,  and  soothe  and  narcotize  in  the  communication  of  their  subtle 
power.  The  author  is  himself  mentally  steeped  in  the  softened  colorings  of  the 
life  he  so  deliciously  depicts.  It  is  like  finding  a  coveted  rest  to  yield  the  forces 
of  the  imagination  to  the  rythmical  flow  of  his  skilfully  arranged  narratives." — 
Boston  Courrier. 


The  Boat-Steerer,  and  Other  Stories. 

I2mo.     Cloth,  gilt  top,  $1.50. 


The  Mutineer ; 

A  ROMANCE  OF  PITCAIRN  ISLAND. 

By  LOUIS  BECKE  AND  WALTER  JEFFERY. 

I2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 


The  Ebbing  of  the  Tide. 

SOUTH  SEA  STORIES.     Large  I2mo.     Cloth  extra,  $1.25. 


By  Reef  and  Palm. 

l6mo.     Illustrated.     Polished  buckram,  75  cents. 

" '  By  Reef  and  Palm'  consists  of  a  number  of  brief  bits  of  romance  and 
strange  experience  among  the  islanders  of  the  tropics.  They  are  told  in  tragical 
vein,  and  appear  to  be  serious  pictures  of  real  life  throughout." — Boston  Courier. 


His  Native  Wife. 

l6mo.     Illustrated.     Polished  buckram,  75  cents. 

"  '  His  Native  Wife'  is  a  masterly  sketch,  in  which  a  native  woman  gains  her 
revenge  upon  a  white  woman  for  attempting  to  steal  away  the  love  of  her  English 
husband." — Boston  Courier. 


}.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


By  Rachel  Penn. 

[Mrs.  E.  S.  Willard.] 

A  Son  of  Israel. 

I2mo.     Cloth,  $1.25. 

"  The  picture  of  the  Russian  ghetto  impresses  us,  like  Zangwill's  own  sketches, 
with  its  seemingly  truthful  realism.  And  delightful  creations,  truly,  are  the  little 
dark-eyed  dancer,  Salome,  and  her  family,  and  the  ancient  La  Meldola.  The 
interior  of  Michael's  household  gives  us  an  excellent  view  of  Russian  family  life. 
In  fact,  exceptional  praise  is  due  the  author,  who  is  said  to  be  the  wife  of  Edwin 
S.  Willard,  the  actor."—  The  Philadelphia  Record. 

"  Rachel  Penn  need  have  no  fears  about  allowing  her  work  to  stand  upon  its 
merits.  'A  Son  of  Israel'  is  a  powerful  and  fascinating  contribution  to  current 
fiction  having  a  deep  religious  coloring,  of  which  '  Quo  Vadis'  and  '  Fabius  the 
Roman'  are  notable  examples  The  scene  of  the  story  is  laid  in  Russia,  and  its 
predominating  theme  is  the  bitter  hostility  of  the  Russian  nobility  toward  the  much 
despised  Jew.  David  Rheba,  a  skilled  silversmith,  is  the  central  figure,  and  his 
strong  yet  pure  and  simple  Christian  character  is  drawn  with  wonderful  clearness." 
•—  The  Minneapolis  Tribune. 

" '  A  Son  of  Israel ;  an  Original  Story,'  by  Rachel  Penn,  has  a  dangerous 
title,  for  original  stories  were  never  common,  and  are  now  scarcer  than  ever,  but 
the  characterization  is  justified  by  the  contents.  It  is  as  odd  a  tale  as  will  often 
be  seen." — Springfield  Republican. 

"  It  is  an  open  secret  that  Rachel  Penn,  whose  first  serious  venture  in  fiction, 
'  A  Son  of  Israel,'  is  in  reality  the  wife  of  Mr.  E.  S.  Willard,  the  well-known  Eng 
lish  actor.  Mrs.  Willard  was  formerly  an  actress,  and,  like  her  husband,  began 
her  career  under  the  auspices  of  the  late  E.  A.  Sothern,  of  Lord  Dundreary  fame. 
After  playing  opposite  roles  for  several  seasons,  the  two  were  married,  Mrs.  Willard 
retiring  soon  afterwards  from  the  stage.  As  she  has  no  children  to  occupy  her 
thoughts,  and  lacks  the  physique  to  endure  the  strain  of  accompanying  her  husband 
on  his  lengthy  tours  in  the  United  States  and  elsewhere,  Mrs.  Willard  has  for  several 
years  devoted  much  time  to  literary  work." — New  York  Commercial  Advertiser. 

"  Fine  dramatic  qualities  mark  '  A  Son  of  Israel,'  which  is  not  to  be  wondered 
at  when  we  learn  that  the  supposed  author  is  Mrs.  E.  S.  Willard,  wife  of  the  actor, 
using  the  pseudonym  Rachel  Penn.  The  writer  has  abandoned  the  commonplace 
in  devising  a  plot,  and  shows  literary  skill  as  well  as  spirit  and  vivacity  in  the  nar 
ration." — Philadelphia  Press. 

"  The  story  fairly  bristles  with  melodrama,  and  contains  incident  enough  for 
any  three  ordinary  books,  while  a  complete  list  of  the  dramatis  persona,  which 
range  all  the  way  from  an  ex-ballet  dancer  to  a  buyer  for  an  English  firm  of 
dealers  in  curios,  and  from  serfs  to  the  Czarowitz  himself,  would  tax  the  limits 
of  the  longest  handbill."— New  York  Commercial  Advertiser. 

"'A  Son  of  Israel'  is  a  timely  book.  Of  peculiar  interest  now,  the  book 
will  be  read,  appreciated,  and  condemned.  It  is  a  novel  of  feeling,  a  novel  buih 
out  of  the  suffering  sympathy  of  a  woman's  heart  for  the  oppressed  of  her  people 
and  of  her  God."—  Chattanooga  Times. 


J.  B.  LIPP1NCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


By  Mrs.  Lindon  W.  Bates. 


Bunch-Grass  Stories. 

I2mo.     Cloth,  #1.25. 

There  is  uncommon  freshness,  like  a  wind  from  the  wide  plains, 
in  these  tales  called  Bunch-  Grass  Stories.  They  are  the  work  of  a 
writer  who  observes  and  seizes  the  picturesque  traits  in  every  land 
where  fortune  happens  to  call  her,  and  her  travels  have  evidently 
been  many  and  far  away.  She  has,  likewise,  much  reading,  which 
she  puts  to  good  account  in  stories  that  impart  the  ring  of  truth  to 
classic  episodes. 


A  Blind  Lead, 

The  Story  of  a  Ntine- 
I2mo.     Cloth,  $1.25. 

" '  A  Blind  Lead'  is  certainly  a  powerful  book.  We  took  k  up  indifferently 
enough,  but  we  had  read  a  few  pages  only  before  we  found  it  was  no  ordinary 
work  by  no  ordinary  writer.  A  good  deal  of  skill  is  shown  in  the  drawing  of  char 
acter.  There  are  no  dull  pages,  and  the  interest  is  continuous  from  the  first  chapter 
to  the  last." — Boston  Advertiser. 


A  Nameless  Wrestler. 

I2mo.     Paper,  50  cents;  cloth,  $1.00. 

"  Her  story,  '  A  Blind  Lead,'  was  very  promising,  and  it  is  followed  by  an 
extremely  interesting  tale,  '  A  Nameless  Wrestler.'  Here  is  something  outside  the 
hackneyed  course  of  fiction— fresh,  strong,  fascinating,  dramatic,  and  wholesome- 
scenes  laid  in  an  unfamiliar  country,  though  our  own,  and  characters  human  enough 
to  be  all  the  more  interesting  because  touched  with  strange  traits  by  virtue  of  en- 
vironment."— Detroit  Tribune. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


By  Mrs.  Molesworth. 


Philippa. 

Illustrated.     I2mo.     Cloth,  $1.25. 

"  Mrs.  Molesworth's  books  are  always  interesting,  particularly  to  girls.  Thii 
story  tells  of  the  adventures  of  a  young  girl,  Philippa,  who,  in  the  capacity  of  a 
lady's  maid,  accompanies  her  married  sister  on  a  visit  to  the  latter's  connections  by 
marriage.  Many  complications  ensue,  which  are  graphically  told."— Norristown 
Htrald.  

Olivia. 

Illustrated.     I2mo.     Cloth,  $1.25. 

"  The  girls  everywhere  will  gratefully  thank  Mrs.  Molesworth  for  giving  them 
this  pure,  unconstrained,  sympathy-moving  story  of  one  of  their  own  age  and  ex. 
perience,  to  whom  their  hearts  will  go  out  warmly  as  they  conclude  their  pleasant 
reading  of  her  creation."— Boston  Courier. 


Meg  Langholme. 

Illustrated.     I2mo.     Cloth,  $1.25. 

"  It  is  the  story  of  a  girl's  life  from  babyhood  to  her  marriage  with  a  sweetheart 
who  comes  home  from  India  just  in  time  to  rescue  her  from  a  great  peril.  It  is 
thoroughly  healthy  in  tone,  and  is  a  charming  mingling  of  romance  and  realism." 
—New  Haven  Journal- Courier. 

Molesworth  Library  for  Girls. 

Olivia.  Meg  Langholme.  Philippa. 

3  volumes.     Illustrated.     I2mo.     Cloth,  £3.75. 

"  This  author  wins  her  host  of  readers  through  her  evident  desire  to  place  them 
in  immediate  touch  with  the  plans,  the  secrets,  the  hopes,  and  the  fears  of  her  in 
imitable  characterizations,  and  to  make  them,  at  least,  cognizant  of  every  mystery, 
if  there  be  any,  that  surrounds  the  personale  of  her  stories.  Her  art  as  a  story- 
writer  is  not  emphasized  by  any  subterfuge,  but  one  perceives,  with  every  step,  her 
skill,  and  the  wholesome  design  invariably  in  view." — Boston  Courier. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


By  S.  Baring-Gould. 

Richard  Cable,  the  Lightshipman. 

I2mo.     Cloth,  $1.00. 


The  Queen  of  Love. 

I2mo.     Paper,  50  cents;  cloth,  $l.oo. 


The  Gaverocks. 

I2mo.     Cloth,  $1.00. 


Court  Royal :  A  Story  of  Cross-Currents. 

I2mo.     Cloth,  $I.oo. 


Guavas  the  Tinner. 

I2mo.     Illustrated.     Paper,  50  cents;  cloth,  $  I.  oo. 

"  There  is  a  kind  of  flavor  about  this  book  which  alone  elevates  it  far  above 
the  ordinary  novel,  quite  apart  from  any  particular  merit  in  the  story.  The  curious 
aloofness  of  these  miners  from  the  generality  of  English  people,  and  the  con 
vincing  manner  in  which  the  author  throws  the  reader  amongst  them  and  makes 
them  perfectly  natural,  perhaps  account  for  this  flavor  of  plausible  singularity; 
but  it  is  a  hard  task  to  define  it.  The  story  itself  has  a  grandeur  in  harmony  with 
the  wild  and  rugged  scenery  which  is  its  setting.  Isolt,  with  her  cold  and  passion 
ate  nature,  is  a  most  haunting  figure,  and  her  mysterious  appearances  are  very 
dramatic.  The  hero  in  a  different  way  is  equally  fine,— distinguished  by  a  silence 
at  once  pathetic  and  magnificent." — London  Athenaum. 


J.  B.  LIPP1NCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


Iruuper 


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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


